#the wifi kept crashing

[gummidon]

He ruined my life

[the-sparkling-diamond-satine]

.

[je-suis-un-fardeau]

i am so tired of everything all the time

[foreveranonymousfa]

[ryewwww]

⚠️: coercion, dark!price, vulnerable!reader, age gap, fem!reader,

Sick and twisted, but thinking about growing up dirt poor, living in a camper with your mom until she abandoned you at 18.

She was a workaholic, went to the city to work which was about a 2 hour drive away from the small town you reside in. Your mom claimed she couldn’t afford the price of rent in the city and raising a teen, which you understood.

But when she abandoned you, it was clear that wasn’t the case. You were just a burden to her.

But what can you do?

Life goes on.

And right now, you were facing a bigger problem. In this tiny town, you were having trouble finding a job. Your mom had blind sided you and rent was due in a few days. You only had $100 to your name.

You landlords were keen on getting you kicked from their land because they found tenants that will pay more. So you packed your life away in a carry on suit-case, and got out of there.

You sat in a McDonald’s for the free wifi while searching for resources that could help you. But nothing was provided by the town, it all was located in the city. Just when you started to feel hopeless, John Price entered the picture.

He noticed the suitcase and that combined with the glum look on your pretty face, made him get off his ass to come talk to you.

“Looks like you’ve got yourself in a shit situation here.”

Your head snaps from your phone, meeting the eyes of this middle aged man. “Yeah, I do I suppose.”

“Mind if I take a seat?”

You do mind but you were meek. So you nodded.

He takes a seat, “you new to town? Not many people come down here to visit, unless you’re lost.”

“No, I grew up here. I’m just trying to figure out my living situation.” You laugh awkwardly and all Price can think about is how you made it too fucking easy.

“Sorry to hear that, bun. If you need a place to crash, I have an old rv I want to get rid of. You could have it for $1000.”

“I don’t have that much money. It’s hard, nobody’s hiring around here.”

“I live on a farm. I could always use a hand. Work for me for a couple of days, and the rv is yours.”

“Really?”

He nods.

You go back to his farm too easily, Price could only wonder if your parents ever taught you about stranger danger.

He pulls into the long driveway and you see the older rv parked in the grass. He lets you check it out and the inside was well kept. There was nothing wrong with it mechanically either so, you could take this rv to the city where you’d have a greater chance of becoming something.

You were so excited and grateful for this opportunity, it almost made Price feel bad about doing this. You were so naive to his true intentions. His intentions on keeping you on this farm, fucking a few kids into you, putting a band around your ring finger, maybe letting his buddy get a taste of you too.

He’d do shit in the most twisted ways too. Like cutting some crucial wires in your rv so now it won’t start. When he “takes a look,” he says the wildlife around must’ve chewed through it. You ask how much it would cost to repair and he gives a number you can’t even fathom.

But he knows someone who could do it. And he’ll pay for it, as long as he gets something in return. When you ask what he wants, his hand cups your chin.

“I want you to put this pretty little mouth to work.”

And you do.

He keeps fucking shit up in your rv while you’re busy combing the horses hair or feeding the chickens. When you come back, your generator isn’t working and it’s freezing.

“How much will it cost to fix the generator?” You ask softly, looking over his shoulders while he “attempted” to fix it.

He stands, “we can talk about it inside.” The “talk” ends up with you warming his bed, his hands on your waist guiding you to ride him faster.

Things kept breaking in your rv and you kept getting quieter because of it. John could see the hope that once lit up your eyes was withering away. So he decided to call his mechanic just to get a little spark from you.

Too bad for you, when mechanic!Simon lays his eyes on you, he gives Price a knowing look.

You weren’t going any fucking where.

Another unedited blurb. If you want more, let me know :)))

[theoldsports]

SOLUTION.

Art Donaldson x Reader | 5k words

SORRY SERIES LINK.

warnings: pregnancy, implied discussion of abortion, a boy groveling on his knees for his family, there’s a dog (a real one, not just Art), talk about Art’s forced weird athletic borderline disordered eating.

okay, i lied last time. THIS is my best work. this is very out of my brain and i hope you love it. holy shit.

Have you ever sat and listened to a leaky faucet? I mean, really listened?

Steady. Like a heartbeat, if you think about it.

Sometimes, though, if the leak is slow enough, it’s more like the kind of heart rate that sends the nurse with the crash-cart sweeping into the room to shock you out of an AFIB pattern. Or however that worked.

[Y/N] was listening to it. The dripping. The kitchen sink. It hadn’t stopped for days. When it began, it was steady. Now, it was irregular. It started the day Art left

Art had been away at an early season tournament. [Y/N] had an impossible work week, so Art had told her he was happy to go for the better part of the week on his own. They both knew Art really did hate to be alone in situations like that. He had always had one of his people there. His mom, Patrick, [Y/N]; one of them was in his corner at these things. This time, he was truly on his own. Art could not stand to travel alone. He had his team of physios and coaches, but not his family. [Y/N] was going to swing by and surprise him at the end, but her boss had leaned into her for trying to take more days off during release season for the big summer blockbusters. Plus, someone did have to watch the dog.

This context about Art’s being away is important. It’s not that Art was the epitome of a handyman, but he really liked to feel like he was contributing to their home’s ecosystem when a lightbulb went out or a switch needed replacing. The man was incredible with the small things. Yet, [Y/N] sat at the kitchen table with a frown on her face, trying to rough in an outline for an article. With the faucet dripping. If Art were there, or if she was with Art three states over, the faucet wouldn’t be dripping against the porcelain basin.

It wasn’t like the wifi signal was strong enough anywhere else on the property for her to up and move either.

drip drip drip. Said the faucet.

[Y/N] was damn near the point where she was going to run upstairs to the bedroom and get the baseball bat Art kept with the express purpose of running down the stairs in his briefs and cracking up on possible intruders. All she could think about was bringing the wood down against the glass and cheap metal on her kitchen counter.

A new house would have a working sink and a bathroom counter that wasn’t too small and a halfway decent wifi signal.

Instead, [Y/N] set her face down upon the cool blue faux granite countertop. The temperature helped ease the feeling of the hyperbolic corkscrew being driven between her eyes. The dripping kept dripping and [Y/N] wanted to cry.

This agony wasn’t all the sink’s fault, though.

[Y/N] saw on the tennis channel before she even got a call from Art that he’d won that weekend. He still hadn’t called. The lack of a call from made her feel ashamed. Not a soul there to celebrate the success with him. She felt an immense sense of guilt slide across her skin because she wasn’t there to witness that smile he got when he won. Sweaty and angry, but relieved every time. He still got that look when he won. Art was a machine on the court, and a competitor not worth counting out at this point in his career. He still looked surprised and delighted every time he, of all people, hit the winner. [Y/N] loved that look. Art loved how she would celebrate with him after a win, too.

[Y/N] prayed Art made his flight without delay that evening. Selfishly, because she wanted her boy back. Also because Art was mortally terrified of airplanes. Planes made him feel out of control due to lack of trust with the pilot. Without that phone call from him, [Y/N] was scared knowing he was out on his own and that he likely felt anxious enough to give a horse a heart attack. She would have no way of knowing if something had happened between the match end and now.

She did know that the sink was leaking.

She also knew her period was two weeks late.

That, Art couldn’t fix on his own. In fact, it was fairly obvious that the delay was more or less Art’s fault.

[Y/N] hadn’t yet taken a pregnancy test at that time. If she took the time to take one, it would make everything the obvious answer a reality she would have to deal with. She had scares before. Ones that she had never, and would never, tell Art about. She would wait for her delayed—not missed!—period and everything would be fine. Like the other times. It had to be fine.

She checked her phone. It was a blue slidephone with small rhinestone stickers she had applied to the back. Still nothing from Art. He said he would call first right after the match, but he still hadn’t actually called, so maybe it was time to call first. It had been hours since he said he’d ring up. It wasn’t a major concern that Art would blow her off. Ideas of danger and uncertainties flooded her head.

“I’m the one that wants marriage so bad. Not Artie. What if he says no? Or not now…?”

[Y/N] sat on the beach with her back against Patrick’s shins. Art and [Y/N] were completing their first year completely post college. [Y/N] and Patrick were twenty-four and Art was almost twenty-four. His November birthday set him behind.

Patrick’s hands were on her shoulders and his body in a beach chair behind her while they both stared off over ocean as the sun set. “You’re actually stupid if you think he’ll deny you, [Y/N].”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to step on his game, or whatever. The guy is supposed to ask. Isn’t this going to be… emasculating or something?”

“Emasculating for Art? For pretty baby? Yeah, okay,” Patrick teased. [Y/N] threw a fistful of sand at him. “Christ, okay, okay. Cool it.” He spit.

Art had run back up toward to hotel to grab his water bottle, while Patrick and [Y/N] stayed at the dunes. [Y/N] wanted to propose to Art by trip’s end. She thought it would be sweet. Art was extremely forward when it came to her her, but he hadn’t been forward about the whole proposal business. He seemed scared about marriage. [Y/N]he would do it herself.

She was grateful for the time alone with her best friend too. Sitting and doing nothing, or partying. Either was more than welcome. “He’s not going to say no,” Patrick continued. His mouth casually leaned close to her ear. “Because it’s insane how whipped you’ve got him.”

“Don’t say that—“

“He wants to have your babies. Ask him. Trust me, he’ll say yes and he will be all the hell over you.” His fingers worked into [Y/N]’s shoulders, feeling the tension there. He took his hands off of her when Art came running down the beach.

[Y/N] heard a click in the lock. Her head flopped to the left, still pressed against the counter, to glance at the door. Her heart rate increased. She was so tired and the speed of the situation so fast, that she didn’t both moving or attempting to defend herself.

Most fortunately, when the door swung open, it was her Art. The sun was going down behind him. He looked a bit ragged and had a racket bag over one shoulder and two duffels in the other hand. She sat upright sharply on the kitchen barstool. “Pretty baby!”

All Art’s gear hit the floor. The door was left open behind him (taking a big chance that their Labrador mix, Cheese, didn’t run down the stairs and bolt out and away). Art walked toward [Y/N], arms extending. His strong arms pulled [Y/N] in close to his chest. She rested her head against his soft gray t-shirt. Her own arms embraced him back and one of her hands tucked comfortably into the back pocket of his jeans. “[Y/N]… I missed you.” Art said into her hair.

“I missed you… I-I… You didn’t call. How did you get here—“

“Final match actually started on time, so I gambled on moving my flight to the earlier one. I didn’t have time to call if I was taking the early one. I should’ve texted. I got nervous with the-the flight. I’m sorry. Forgive me?”

[Y/N] leaned back to look at him. There was no more welcome sight in the world than Art Donaldson. Irish genetics saw to it that Art was freckled from the spring sun. With shaggy hair boyishly covered by a baseball cap tipping back dangerously, he practically glowed. Even though he looked like shit. His sunglasses were hanging on his shirt. [Y/N/] tilted her head up, signaling for a kiss. Hungrily, Art leaned forward to take as many kisses as he wanted. His lips tasted like spearmint gum. Like always.

Cheese did run downstairs when Art’s hand climbed up the side of [Y/N]’s throat and when her own hand started to squeeze from under the fabric of Art’s back left pants pocket. Art had to pull regretfully away to grab Cheese by the collar and shut the front door.

Delightedly, Art did gteet Cheese with ear-scratches and a belly rub. Art received the customary licks and a tailwags in return. Cheese was always pretty down when the whole family wasn’t together. He walked and played a bit, but when his dad wasn’t around, Cheese kind of deflated. He had spent most of the time laying flat on Art’s side of the bed. It was obvious the dog was grieving the disappearance of his boy.

When Art bent down to pat his beloved Cheese, [Y/N] stood from her chair and bent at the waist. She pulled Art’s hat off and set it on the counter. Gently, she kissed Art on top of the head. With a scratch not unlike the ones he gave to the canine to the back of Art’s neck, the man looked up at her from the ground with a half-smile.

“Congrats, baby,” [Y/N] said. Art cut his eyes curiously from her to the tennis channel on the TV playing in the next room. That had him realizing where she would have gotten the information of his win from so efficiently. “How was the tournament? I’m sorry I couldn’t—“

“Sure, sure, but I bet Cheese here is pretty glad you were home,” Art said and stood up with one final pat to Cheese’s flank. “The whole thing was great. I… I’m kind of surprised I won, if I’m being honest.” Art said, wrapping an arm around [Y/N]’s waist.

Naturally, her hands flattened against his toned chest when he tugged her towards him. “I’m not. You’re fucking good at tennis, Art.”

His ears reddened in embarrassment as he tucked his face into [Y/N]’s neck to hide his face. Art was used to praise and loved it more than anything, no matter where it came from. Every compliment from [Y/N] was worth a hell of a lot more. Art hated thinking about why that was the case. He knew why, though. She had seen he and Patrick play and even then thought Art was good. Art still won the match when it came to [Y/N] and he would never tell her that.

“Hush…” He mumbled into her neck, planting a biting, teasing kiss there. She laughed. He laughed. “I played against an eighteen year old kid yesterday. He played really well,” Art leaned back to look at her again. “You saw, I’m sure,” he indicated the TV with a nod. “He would’ve won this weekend if I hadn’t won that match. Just… I’m twenty-six. Made me feel old.”

“…Glad you won, then.”

“I said if I hadn’t…”

“Well, if you’re sooooo down on your win then congrats on flying home all by yourself like a big boy.” [Y/N] smirked.

“Oh, you’re gonna be like that, huh?” Art withdrew his hands from his wife’s body and put them teasingly on his own hips.

[Y/N] nodded. “Yeah. If you’re old, imagine how I feel.”

“Ancient, probably.”

Art leaned in for another kiss. She pushed him back playfully. “No! You called me old!” [Y/N] laughed.

She leaned one way, then the other to avoid Art’s beautifully wrinkled nose and smiling mouth. “Please? I’m sorry, I’m sorry! You’re-you’re not old!” Art said and attempted to trap her with his arms and give her a kiss.

[Y/N] turned hard over her shoulder and ran up the stairs. Cheese gave a woof from the couch when Art chased after her. Art spent his life chasing after her.

“No! You can’t kiss me! Doghouse! Bad Art! Bad!” [Y/N] accused jokingly. Art jumped up the stairs. He took them two and three at a time.

Art backed her against the bathroom door. Nowhere left to run. His rough hands settled on her hips. “Gotcha. You’re pretty fast for an old lady, y’know. Late for bingo, or—“ Art smirked when he leaned in to kiss her.

[Y/N] shut him up with a kiss. She had missed his stupid boy babbling. His mouth was soft against hers. Art put one of his hands on the wooden door beside her face to hold himself up. The other hand found her belt loop, keeping her body close to his.

“I love you,” Art whispered between kisses. “I love you so much, honey. I missed you.”

[Y/N]’s head leaned back against the door with a soft thud. Her breath caught in her throat. “I love you t—mmh!” Art leaned in for another kiss.

The joy of being Art Donaldson’s wife was that he never got tired of touching her, or being physically close. Sometimes, [Y/N] would look over at him while she was writing, or making dinner, and he would be staring, or slowly extending his hand to her and seeing how long it took for [Y/N] to acknowledge his presence. It never ceased to make her feel beautiful. “Can we…” his fingers danced over the button on her jeans.

“Can we what…?” She asked coyly.

Art blushed, but smirked and lowered his lips by [Y/N] ear. “Can we fuck? Please?” He asked too politely for as dirty as those words were. Like the good midwestern boy that he was.

She tipped her head back further. Art kissed her neck with all the energy he could muster. “Can I not make you dinner first? You-you a cheap whore as well as old now, too?” [Y/N] jeered. Art snorted a laugh. The warm air from the giggle spread over [Y/N]’s skin, causing goosebumps to raise. “I’m never letting you leave home alone again, then.”

Art nodded against her skin, sucking and licking a spot they both new would bruise dark. The sound she let out was absolutely disgusting and Art loved it. “I would prefer to never be let out of your sight, personally.” He said when he pulled away.

“Come on, house boy… We’re havin’ dinner. And you’re gonna eat some bread,” [Y/N] said, pointing a finger at Art’s chest. He started to put up a fight about the ultra-low nonexistent amount of inactive carbs he was eating during the season, but [Y/N] kept chattering. “Stop talking. Your brain doesn’t work right without carbs. Braindead. Come on, dinner.”

“You’re bad for me.”

“I know.” [Y/N] smiled.

Normally, [Y/N] drank a cup of coffee when the pair made dinner. Art knew the pattern. He made her the cup of coffee every time. It sat mostly unfinished that night, though. She found herself heating and reheating it in the microwave as they cooked. She started to space out as he recapped the tournament in full detail, as she requested. If Art noticed, he didn’t let on. [Y/N] noticed, though. Little stood between her and coffee. She didn’t want to drink it. That was violently unusual.

“Hey, I’m gonna go piss. Can you—“

“Watch the sauce?” Art asked, indicating the creamy pesto she had on the stove while Art cleaned and cut vegetables.

“Mhm.” [Y/N] confirmed. Art slid over to take the spoon from her. He placed a hand at the bottom of her back as she walked away. Art fit perfectly into her life. It wasn’t fair how right he was for her.

She went to the upstairs bathroom instead of the downstairs one. She hoped that didn’t set off Art’s sixth sense about the way-things-had-to-be. Once upstairs, [Y/N] wasted no time yanking open the medicine cabinet behind the mirror. It was overflowing, naturally. Makeup, supplements, condoms, hair ties, pill bottles, loose painkillers. It was a disaster. There was also a pregnancy test.

A laughing Art had given it to [Y/N] as a joke the morning after their wedding night and she had hit him hard enough to bruise across the chest. The test sat wrapped and in the box behind the mirror every day since. Just in case.

[Y/N] had officially arrived at just in case.

She gingerly tossed the empty box under the sink so Art wouldn’t see it without looking for it. Then, [Y/N] undid the buttons on her overalls and, well, took the test.

Lacking the time to sit and watch it come back positive or negative, [Y/N] tossed the clean cap on the stick, slid it into the pocket of her overalls, washed her hands and went downstairs like nothing was wrong.

Except she knew something was wrong. Now she felt like she had a loaded gun in her pocket. She was too cautious with her movements due to the fear that the test would slip out of her front right pocket in front of Art.

She was damn near about to step into the pantry and shut the door just to see if the pee stick had one line or two. If he wasn’t already suspicious, that would do it. [Y/N] felt that the anxiety created was easily the worst anxiety she had ever had. Oops.

[Y/N] got quiet. She was talking less and listening more. Not that there was anything wrong with that, but she was a chatterbox. Art would notice her blanched face and wrinkled brow eventually, she worried.

Ever the perceptive bastard, Art did. When he sat beside [Y/N] at the counter to eat a bowl of pasta with more inactive carbs than he had eaten in six months, he kept cutting his eyes at her. His bare foot nudged her ankle. Her dish was relatively untouched. “You good, babe? You’re being weird.”

“I’m not being weird.”

“You are being weird because you’re not being you. I’ve barely asked you how you’re doing with all the excitement. Long day?” Art asked, setting down his fork to drag his hand across the back of her shoulders.

“Yeah, a bit.” [Y/N] said. What she meant to say was I have a pregnancy test and I bet it is positive in my pocket right now and I’m so terrified that I can practically smell my pit stains right now, baby. But she didn’t say that.

Art spun to face her, taking in her expression and demeanor. There was that contemplative knot perched between his eyebrows. The back of his hand landed calmly on [Y/N]’s forehead to check her temperature. “Art…” [Y/N] said, pushing his hand down.

“No, hang on.” Art said firmly. He tried to put his hand back on her face. Instead, not having a clue what it said, [Y/N] reached into her front right pocket and slammed the pregnancy test down between them. Art retracted his hand and flinched back a bit at the sudden movement. The test was face down on the counter.

Art’s eyes cut from the test back to her. His face was suddenly very solemn. “Are you—“

“—I dunno. I didn’t-I couldn’t look. It’s been in my pocket for twenty minutes. No idea.”

“Do you think you are?”

[Y/N] shrugged and looked at her bowl. It looked too green. sick sick sick. drip drip drip said the faucet.

“Do you want to know if you are?” Art asked wide-eyed. “I want to know, personally. Do… Do you?”

Again, [Y/N] shrugged. “If we don’t look, it’s not real.”

“…That’s stupid.” Art shook his head.

“You’re stupid.”

Art sighed. “I’m gonna look. I mean, I’m going to turn it over,” his eyes frantically reached for [Y/N]’s. He grabbed her hand with his to get her attention. “I’m going to look. Is that okay with you?”

“Yeah.” She whispered and it was okay.

And she was pregnant.

Two blue lines stared at them.

“Fuck.” [Y/N] said. She felt both elated and humiliated. She wanted so badly to be a mother. She wanted to cry. How could they keep it? The timing was wrong. She hadn’t agreed to this. The two of them had so many fights about it. She barely understood how this happened. She thought they were being so careful. It didn’t make any sense. Every precaution she could think of had been taken at one point or another.

And the fucking faucet was still dripping. She could hear it. drip drip drip. Over and over.

“Fuck.” She said sliding out of her chair and standing unsteadily. That wasn’t the result one should feel when they get something they have spent so long wanting.

Art ran his hands through his hair. He knew he shouldn’t be smiling when she looked so worried. His face betrayed the wide smile he hoped to hide. That’s exactly what he wanted to see. Fuck.

“Honey… Hey, hey. You’re okay. This is awesome. C’mere.” Art said like he was diffusing a bomb. His arm were wide open to hold her.

“Art…”

“No, uh-uh. Just come here. Please.”

Cautiously, [Y/N] made her way into her favorite pair of arms in the world. “It’s not supposed to be like this.” [Y/N] choked out as Art held her.

“Shh, I know, I know,” Art said calmly. His left hand’s fingers brushed her hair away from her face. “But that’s how it is now. We have to accept that and solve for the next move, right?” It was silent for a while after that. [Y/N]’s arms were tightly wrapped around Art’s shoulders and their bowls of pasta were certainly cold. She felt that she had ruined everything.

She glanced at Art’s face. The small smile betrayed him. “Art… We can’t. Not now.” she had told Art not now so many times that it felt forced and rehearsed. Now that [Y/N] that was actually pregnant, she wanted nothing more than to stay pregnant. The timing was far from good. She had articles that were still very due the next day. She had a husband who very much traveled often for work (who she traveled with too). She had Cheese, who was staring at her weird over the back the couch because he didn’t understand crying.

“What do you mean we can’t?” Art said quietly. “We-We can. We… have. We are… Actively.” He fumbled.

“We can. We did! But… You know now’s not a good time, baby.” [Y/N] countered weakly.

Art’s hands never left [Y/N]’s waist. “Let’s run pros and cons.”

“Pretty baby.” She said accusatorially. Good old analytic Art…

“Let’s run pros and cons.” Art repeated unflinchingly. He sprang up off of his barstool to gather a sharpie and a legal pad from some drawer. Art uncapped the marker harshly with his teeth. Cap between his teeth still, he asked: “Do you want it?” while he found a clean, smooth page.

Before she could respond with her head, [Y/N] responded with her heart. She nodded a yes to him immediately. “Do you?”

Art capped the back end of the marker to free up his mouth. “More than anything ever, I think. It would probably kill me a little bit, actually, if… Yeah. I understand and it’s all up to you, honey, but… Yeah.” His hand created a PRO column and a CON column on the page.

Under PRO, Art added the items he knew would cause no trouble in his blocky capitalized handwriting:

FINALLY START FAMILY

NATURAL/EASY START

SEASON ALMOST OVER

[Y/N] HAS FLEXIBLE HRS

DREAM COME TRUE??

WILL BE GR8 PARENTS

[Y/N] nodded in approval. She couldn’t think of more pros, but Art handed her the marker and she started in on the CON list:

OLYMPICS??

ART’S NEVER HOME

EXPENSIVE

SMOKING/COFFEE

CHEESE JEALOUS?

TOO YOUNG!

Art drew the line at giving up stimulants and assigning the dog human traits and struck both of those off the list with a frown.

Frankly, Art thought the cons list turned out rude.

“I haven’t qualified for the Olympics yet,” he protested. “And if I do, imagine how early on that would be. Before all the hard stuff.”

[Y/N] replied with the thing they both knew was the most real problem. She had waited forever to say it out loud. “No offense… You are never home anymore. You’re busy all the time. Which I get. It’s your job. You’re good at your job. But look how excited the fuckin’ dog got to see you because you were gone so long. You are never here. We can’t put a human in doggy day camp all the time. It would be fucking impossible to raise—“

“I’ll quit,” Art said, wincing. He wouldn’t. [Y/N] felt that this was a bluff. He tried in vain to hide his expression of shame. “I’ll quit tennis.” He said. He wasn’t going to.

“That would worsen the problem. No money.”

“I’ll work at the 7/11. I’ll be a construction worker. I could be a fuckin’ coach. I actually have a degree, y’know, I can use it. I’m more than a racket. I don’t want you to feel alone here. I want to be here for all of it, I can—“

“You know I’m alone here a lot, babe. A lot. You don’t… You’re in a position where you’re unable to help constantly. Because you’re gone. That’s okay. I married you knowing that, right? But a baby, Art? That’s not fair.”

“I’ll bail on a season. I will. I just…” Art stared at her. “Please. I’m begging you. See this kid through with me.”

The sharpie was forgotten on the counter along with dinner. Art’s knees landed on the floor before [Y/N]. Art practically lived on his knees in front of [Y/N]. He gathered [Y/N] hands in his. “Please. It’s your call, but hear me out. Because that thing is part of both us. I don’t want you to hate or resent me or the little stinker forever, but you want it. I know that. Hear me out.” His beautiful two-tone eyes stared up at her.

“Fine. Go ahead.”

“I will give you anything. Please, my world is you. Not tennis; you. I’m telling you, I-I would leave that behind to be anything you need right now. Just ask it. You’re my fucking priority, you got that? I just.. I… Please? I’m not going anywhere.”

“I want to keep it too, but—“

“Then what’s the big deal?” Art asked hopefully.

“It isn’t a good time. It’s too soon.”

Art’s mouth trailed kisses across his wife’s stomach and hips and hands and arms. He let this go on for several minutes. “Please,” Art whimpered pathetically into the skin of her wrist. “Please, please, please. I will do anything, my love. I’m on my knees here,” Art looked up at her through thick lashes. “We can do this. Both of us together. I’ll do whatever you want. You know I will. This can be good for us. I’m really sorry we’re here, but here we are, hon. What time’s going to be the right time? Please. I love you.” Art pleaded desperately.

[Y/N] knew this was going to be a disaster. But she wanted to keep it. What time’s going to be the right time? rung in her ears over and over, like the faucet. They had put so much time into arguing about the time and the place that would be right for a family. Now it was right in front of them. Her hand caressed Art’s face. She loved it when he groveled like that. This time, on his knees and everything. On instinct, he nuzzled his face into her hand and looked up at her through long lashes.

“Will you fix the faucet? It’s been dripping all week.”

“Anything.”

“I’ll… I’ll think about it. I’m going to think about it. The baby.”

“You will?” Art’s teary eyes widened.

“Objectively, this is a terrible fucking idea. We both know that. But if it’s really so terrible, why do I feel, like… happy about it…”

Art’s face lit up. It wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no either. [Y/N], honestly, found it very hard to say no to Art. His arms wrapped carefully around her thighs while his head rested against her middle as he knelt. [Y/N] could feel his silver ring through the denim of her overalls. “God, I love you. I love you, [Y/N]. We’re not going to regret this. Holy shit…”

“Love you too. We’re gonna… We’re gonna try, maybe? This doesn’t feel real. Does this feel real? I…”

“It feels like a dream is what it feels like,” Art mumbled into her clothes. “I love you.” Art said, pressing a kiss to her stomach.

“I love you.”

“I’m gonna be a dad…” Art almost wept. “If you, y’know, but… Shit. I’m sorry.” Which part he was apologizing for was unclear.

At that, [Y/N] laughed and tangled her fingers in his curly blonde mop of hair. “Yeah, you’re gonna be a fucking dad, pretty baby.” She smiled.

[Y/N]’s next instinct was to say: I have to call Patrick. Then she remembered couldn’t call Patrick.

TAGLIST (ask to join):

@diorrfairy @donaldsonsdarling @muthafuckingstargirl @shysstuff @soberbabes @avylanchce

apologies for tag issues. i’ll dm those it didn’t work for!

[venenna]

MAPS

Sae Itoshi x reader

A/n: I got inspo from "Maps" by Maroon 5 <3

Most likely occ, pls do forgive

FOR THE STORY PURPOSES SAE AND RIN DIDN'T HAVE A FALL OUT AND HE ISN'T SO DEPRESSED 💔💔(he still became midfielder but no hard feelings)

ALSO BIG THANKS TO WOOKIE( @crystxlseesu ) for proofreading

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

Its been 2 years since Sae left for Spain.

And man did you miss him....

You knew Itoshi brothers ever since you could talk. Everyone thought that the older boy was stoic, serious and cold, and in fact he was. But to Rin and you he wasn't. He was Sae a caring boy with a big heart, always buying you Ice cream after his practice.

And now you were watching him leave in pursuit of his greatest passion and dream.

"Come back as best striker ya hear" you said playfully punching him "or else you've left for nothing"

"Of course i will, that's the plan" Sae stated as matter of factly.

"We're counting on you, you know me and Rin, dont disappoint us" you said smirking at him.

Sae and you just stared at each other for a minute, either not wanting to break the comfortable silence. Until...

"Call me when you land?"

He nods

You suddenly hug him, warm liquid gathering at you lash line "Come back soon okay?"

The auburn haired boy returns the gesture, although a little startled by the suddeness of it.

"I will" He said brushing some of [hc] locks out of your face "Will you wait for me?"

"Of course i will"

The moment when he left kept replaying in your head for years. And now here you were staring at his last message.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Saesae🩷

Im coming back.

4:14pm

To say you were shocked was an understatement. You were feeling everything all at once. All pent up emotions from years back came crashing down like a tidal wave. Trying to get a hold of yourself you fumble with your phone and quickly type:

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Saesae🩷

Im coming back.

WHAT WHEN WHERE?!?!

that's so sjjssjajjsjs

omg i missed you

Tell me when to come

and I'll pick you up pookie 🫦

Me and rin will get you

5:26pm

Your hands kept shaking. This felt so surreal, HE was coming back, the boy you fell in love with all those years ago. You couldn't help a wide grin spreading across your face.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

Sae unlocked the door to his apartment, it was around 5pm in Madrid. He just came back from training, as soon as his phone connected to WiFi it started buzzing with notifications. Corner of his mouth twitches as he sees your contact name pop up.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

[Nickname]

Im coming back.

WHAT WHEN WHERE?!?!

that's so sjjssjajjsjs

omg i missed you

Tell me when to come and I'll pick you up pookie 🫦

Me and rin will get you

9:26am

Saturday, the same airport

2pm in your time, don't be late.

I missed you too |

I miss |

|

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

Waking up next day, the rays of morning sun shining brightly in your eyes. You immediately pick up your phone (as the addict you are) and see one notification from Sae. Safe to say you got woken up pretty quickly.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Saesae 🩷

Saturday, the same airport 2pm in your time, don't be late.

1:30am

I was asleep 💔💔

Aye aye sir will be

there in appointed time

🫡🫡🫡

BTW how was practice

yesterday

Getting up from the bed was a challenge you weren't ready for yet, deciding staying under your warm blankets was a better alternative.

*Buzz*

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Saesae 🩷

Practice today was alright,

as usual.

How did you sleep?

7:36am

Glad to hear it

I slept well!!!!!

finally on spring break

FREEDOM

WTF IS A KILOMETER⁉️

🦅

👍 Saesae 🩷 reacted

Also goodnight ik its

11pm for you sir

Ill see you on Saturday :)

❤️ Saesae 🩷 reacted

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

The Saturday came and things couldn't have went.......worse!!

You over slept your alarm and you were currently hurrying around your home trying to get ready (your family's alarmed). Your car keys are no where to be found, and Rin couldn't come with you due to an important game he had today. It was 11am and ride to airport was 2 hours. Safe to say if you don't get yourself together you'll be late.

After what felt like hours you finally got ready, now the problem were the keys, which god knows where you left them. And you were supposed to go in 15 minutes!!

Running through the house like a madman opening every drawer, every cabinet or anything that could be opened really. Time was ticking and you were already going to be late for sure. Your parents were helping you in search, God bless your mother who found your keys i the laundry basket (girl how did it even get there?).

You straight up ran outside towards your car ignoring whatever your parents said. Something about "good luck" or "drive safely", honestly you couldn't be bothered to think about it.

As you sat down in the drivers seat turning on the radio, shuffling through a few stations stopping at one playing "Shut Up and Drive" by Rihanna, oddly fitting song for the occasion. Letting the song fade i to the background you set up your GPS, since last time you were at the airport the Itoshis ever so kindly took you with them, you were pretty much clueless which way to go.

Your hands were gripping the steering wheel as you checked GPS for nth time. Checking every turn you made just in case. It's 1:55pm and you were almost there, surprising considering the earlier incident.

You could already see the outline of the airport!

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

Sae was lifting up his eye mask looking out of window. Listening to music on his earphones he stretched for a bit.

Plane was slowly descending, tho his face didn't show it he was happy to know he'll see you again, after years of being apart. He couldn't help a smal smile gracing his lips.

As Sae got off the plane he immediately called you.

*Ring ring ring*

Your phone rang as you parked your car, as soon as your car was set in place you answered.

"Hello [Name]"

"Hey Sae!!!"

"Where are you?"

"In the parking lot, i had to park so far from the exist, damn early birds" slamming your car door with more force then necessary "I'll be there in a minute, stay on call"

"Ok"

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

Running through airport wasn't your brightest idea, but it was the only idea right now. Pushing through the crowd trying to reach the boy you've been yearning to see.

"Remind me" you talked into your phone panting slightly "where exactly are you?"

He sighs before speaking "Near the baggage carousel"

Slowing down to catch your breath looking around the baggage carousel area "I don't-"

Pair of, all to familiar, teal eyes locks gaze with your [ec] ones "-see you..."

You quickly hang up, shoving your phone somewhere. You didn't care enough to actually acknowledge it's location. Your body, even tho exhausted from all frantic running, reflexively sprinted towards him.

Without a second thought you jumped to hug him. The next moment you were already in his arms, tho hesitant, Sae reciprocated the embrace.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'RE HERE" tightening your hold on him "i missed you"

"Im here, and im very much real [Name]" he sighs, hint of a smile evident on his features.

...

"At least you kept one promise mister midfielder"

The only response you get is a soft hum whilst he's still holding you.

You're grinning ear ro ear leaning your forehead onto his.

"Welcome back Sae"

His face was stuck in his neutral, indifferent expression, but something in his eyes told you otherwise.

"Thanks for waiting [Nickname]".

pls this was my first time writing im so scared...

I hope you liked it haha *dies*

[arcaneloverxx]

pls more gamer ellie headcanons i beg🙏

Streamer!Ellie Headcanons Pt.2

a/n: Ask and you shall receive! Had fun writing this, hope it came out to your liking and enjoy <3!!

streamer!ellie who has a pretty clean set up, surprisingly. She decided to do a little room tour for her chat and they were very surprised to see how well put and vibey her room was.

streamer!ellie who curses TOO MUCH for her own good. It gets to the point were Joel has to threaten to take aways her whole set up if she doesn’t cut it out.

streamer!ellie who is in a low-key relationship. Well, it was, until she kept forgetting to put some certain items away before her stream.

“Woahhh, okay chat calm down or my monitor is gonna crash…again. What are y’all even talkin bout?” Ellie says as she reads over the hundreds of comments filling her chat.

stargirl69: I KNOW YOU FUCKING LYINNNN!!! 

user20683: ELLIE?!?! What is that in the back????😂

hughanus: Bro is that a fucking strap LMAOOO😭😭

hoesluvdina: Um els…you got a lil something behind you😟

“The fuck?“ Ellie mumbled in confusion while turning to look behind her. And there sitting behind her on her bedside table, was a strap that you bought her a few months ago when you guys wanted to experiment more in your relationship.

“WHAT THE FUCK!”

streamer!ellie who was mortified and furiously apologized to her chat. Even though there were some comments that made her want to spit out a few remarks of her own.

abbywashere: Bro there is no way this girl can pull

lazysusan<3: So your telling me that today is that day I find out that my wife is taken

hottestmilf9: GAH DAMN, the SIZE of that thing. Is that girl okay??

streamer!ellie who has the WORST wifi quality. It’s honestly a miracle that you can even see her clearly when she streams. And not to mention all the times her screen would freeze while she’s talking and when it comes back in, she's gone (She went to the bathroom).

streamer!ellie who has serious gamer rage. One time after losing a game against Jesse and Dina, the girl chucked her headset across the room, only to come back with them broken and dangling by the wires.

sonotjesse: Ho…is you cool??🤨

user28897: Ellie, we’ve talked about this😭🤦🏾‍♀️

biilybenson17: And this is why people can’t have nice things

streamer!ellie who finally slipped about your guys relationship. And instead of her fans being crazy lunatics over it, they were actually really supportive over the news.

erenyeagerwife: AWWWW I KNEW ITTTT😻

abbywashere: AGAIN, there is NO WAYYYY this girl can pull

britkneespears: You need to bring her on stream plssss

streamer!ellie who freaked the fuck out when one of her subscribers found Joel’s socials and sent him a link to her stream.

“Okay guys so my girlfriend told me about this game, but I didn’t know they got naked and shit on here. Finna see some tittiessss!” Ellie said while leaning in close to see her monitor and read some of the chats.

simpforellie: AYEEE JOEL HAS ENTERED THE CHAT!🥳

user6969: Umm Ellie, I think your dad is on here…

biglesbo: LMAOOOOO NOT HER DAD JOINING💀💀

“The fuck y’all talking about??” And Ellie was just praying that her chat was trolling her about Joel joining her stream, because there was no fucking way. Until she saw the most recent comment.

joelmiller67: Hey kid, that game is a little inappropriate for your to be playing, especially in front of others, don’t you think?

joelmiller67: And I also washed your hello kitty pjs like you asked. Their in the dryer, love ya kid.

“JOEL PLEASE GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!” Ellie screamed with her face burning with embarrassment. Let’s just say the chat had a field day with what just occurred.

streamer!ellie who spams you with cat memes that she swears is funny, and decides show them to her chat.

“Chat look at these hilarious cat memes. My girlfriend swears they’re lame. What y’all think?”

yourlefttit: Ellie…I think its time for bed

abbywashere: ...remind me how you pull again

user69023: LAME ASS BOIIII

yeagerist: This bitch think she’s funny

hoesluvdina: ELLIE TS LAME ASF🤣🤣

“You know wha- SHUT THE FUCK UP DINA!”

note: Sorry that I've been kinda MIA, but I'm feeling much better. I'll try to write more and have it posted asap. Love you guys<3!!

[klunkcat]

dialogue prompts for ~injury~

11. “I’m going to lift you up, okay? Tell me if it hurts.”

with maybe portal duo my beloved :3 💙🧡

(I don’t know what’s wrong with me but I read this and immediately thought about how cold it was outside the other day, so this got away from me a little bit <3 if you live in upstate new york and know geographically that this is impossible, know that I looked up exactly enough for this to not be nonsense and that's it so sorry in advance lmao)

tw: mild injury, some mentions of potential suffocation (does not happen), avalanches

Maybe it’s a cliche to say that ‘everything happened so fast’, but in Mikey’s defense, it was freezing and he was thinking about the hot cocoa he was going to make when he got home (with mousse, and sprinkles. Maybe the cherries April had sneakily bought him the other day), and frankly it was freezing. 

The opportunity to hang out at April’s cabin with his brothers upstate had been a dream come true. Donnie kept the train carts from getting too cold regularly, but there was a power outage issue that made things draftier than even their mounds of blankets seemed to be able to drive out these days. When it had been suggested they spend a few weeks away until the grid could come back on, it sounded like a vacation. 

Complete access to an open acre of land in the mountains complete with a two story log cabin home, with full wifi? And a full kitchen? Paradise. Easy trade. Every single one of them had yes and’ed that bit. 

Of course, it didn’t mean they’d left the winter behind. 

One second, they’d been playing ‘Free Willy-Raph’, which is to say competing over who could launch themselves high enough off a snow hill to make it fully over Raph’s head – kind of like a pole vault but with a sled and a lot more crashing limbs– and the next. Well. Mikey isn’t entirely sure what happened next.  

He’d been up the slope, maybe a bit farther than his brothers had gone just to prove a point, spiced up on the barest bit of playful spite after Leo had beat him the last four times in a row, and sure he could get it this time. His brother’s and April looked like stickmen down the ways as he’d started settling down his bright orange sled. 

Suddenly, a shout, or a rush of noise. He wasn’t sure what came first. A roll of white, and he was flying. Swimming, maybe. Then: darkness.

Mikey’s not sure if he blacks out for a second, or when he blinks himself awake it’s just fallen instantly silent, but it’s muffled all the way up to his eyes. Oh, he thinks distantly. There is stuff on my eyes. It’s really unfortunate that his arms are too tired to move anywhere at all near his face. He wiggles his hands anyways. 

It’s cold, too— his thoughts are hard to order. It’s an all over cold like Donnie had stuffed snow down his jacket again. He hopes Raph caught him doing it this time. 

“Not funny, Dee,” he mumbles, and hey. Actually, it’s hard to move his lips, too. He knows something about that— Leo had drilled it into all of their heads after he’d read through one of the big medical textbooks April ‘borrowed’ for him. 

We don’t regulate temperature like people do, Leo’d said. Which means, if you lie around in the tunnels all day or take a funky trip up to skate around without a scarf. Bam, turtle pop. 

Does that mean we can’t go up top at all? Mikey’d whined. It would be horrendous if they couldn’t visit April for a good few months; they had a tradition on Christmas eve of watching the absolute worst Christmas rom coms they could for the entire afternoon before her parents got home from work. They’d never gotten that cold before. 

Leo’d poked Mikey and leaned forwards with a sideways smile. Nah, just gotta stay warm is all, Angie. If you feel sleepy, let me know okay?

“I think I’m sleepy,” Mikey tells Leo. Except Leo isn’t actually here, he doesn’t think. It’s cold, but it’s packed all in at him like there’s something warm under the center of it. He can’t really feel his toes, he thinks one of his boots might have fallen off. April had tried really hard to find some in his size, she’d probably be sad. 

Fuck, Leo thinks. Imagines a Raph who isn’t just as mortified as he is scolding him for it, and swears again just for emphasis.

In theory, he’d known that avalanches were a thing. He’d even made a joke about it as they were driving up and noticed exactly how nestled into the mountainside April’s parents place was. He’d thought it was more for skiers, or freak accidents in ice storms, or dramatic beginnings to a meet cute made by someone who had absolutely no understanding of gravitas. 

Not for little brothers. Definitely not for his. 

The notice that the snow was giving way had been almost nothing— a faint drum sound maybe. He’d hesitated, for a second while goofing around with Don and gotten a handful of snow to the face as a result. Mikey trudging stubbornly up the marker that Leo’d set to try to get even more airtime, bright orange sled bobbing with him as he went. 

He’d looked so tiny. For all his little brother was an absolute powerhouse of a maniac when he needed to be, sometimes it hit him funny just to remember that he was little. 

Then, a cracking noise. Something rumbling— a white hill appearing behind Mikey, farther up the slope, April’s gasp of sudden realization and— 

He couldn’t find Mikey. 

“Maybe he followed it out,” April said, panic making her voice sound thready to Leo’s ears. “If he— in an avalanche, you’re supposed to swim with it.” 

Leo shook his head. Numb down to his finger tips. “He wasn’t even looking at it.” Mikey hadn’t even seen it. His baby brother was a fluid instinctive wave of thunder in motion on his worst days, but it hit him from behind. They’d never been anywhere that had so much snow. 

Donnie made a faint noise to his left, the kind of exasperated hiss that meant he was overwhelmed and shutting down. He typed even more frantically on his wrist guard. 

“He’s here,” Raph said, swallowing roughly. “We just— we just have to find him. Right?” 

Leo nodded back. “Maybe we should, um. If we split up, we can cover more area. Don, can you lend Raph your staff?”

It was a testament to how far deep into shut down mode his twin was that he didn’t even argue, passing it over without a word. Leo tried to center himself. 

“It’s. If you poke first, gently. You can find more under the snow, so it doesn’t get more compact.” Raph’s weight would be a problem in terms of accidentally standing on Mikey, if he was under him. He tried to will his brain away from the mental image and failed. “You go left, I’ll start where we saw him and work down.” 

Raph nodded, mouth set in a wobbly line. Find him Leo, he imagined Raph saying. Please.

It was a tiny one, April’d said, which was the craziest part. They’d had enough time to back up out of the way, and it hadn’t reached the house. Just a top layer shifting with the snowfall from last week, probably. Just bad timing. 

There could be another one, if they weren’t careful. Leo was the fastest, he could portal himself down the mountain if he triggered anything, but it would mean Mike potentially buried under another layer. Shit. And it was cold. He’d almost told Mikey to come back down at first, because he was the most susceptible as the smallest to bone chill and they’d been out for a good hour already, but Mike had looked so determined—

He set out up the mountain. 

“Mike? Angelo?” He called, gingerly plodding through the snow, one careful foot at a time. “Buddy, you’re scaring us a little here. Can you make a noise? Reach a hand up? Come on, I’ll even let you tell everyone you won the jump if you want. Once in a lifetime offer!” 

The wind whistled emptily back at him. He shivered. The chill was already starting to bite further through his layers, or maybe it was the shock of seeing his baby brother’s orange hat swallowed up like it was being erased in front of him. This was supposed to be fun, was the thing. A big relaxation party time after barely surviving the end of the world, again. 

Dad had stayed home to keep the lights on, and April was off school for winter break, and it was supposed to be the best time ever so that dad didn’t get a heart attack and ground them all from ever doing anything until they were forty. Fuck, he thought again, which really put a finer point on things. 

What if Mike was hurt? What if he’d hit his head, or crashed into a tree– what if he couldn’t breathe, and Leo was walking around slowly above him all the while, oblivious. What if this nice holiday trip was the last time he ever saw his baby brother, and the last thing he’d ever said was a teasing insult about being last. 

“Mikey!” He called out more urgently. It echoed back, just on the side of too loud, and he froze. Waited. One one thousand, two one thousand. 

No drum sound, no cracking. Just the potential of his brother suffocating three feet to his left. 

Dad was going to lose it. 

He scanned around, white snow and wind blurring at his vision in every direction. Panic had already settled its grip in his chest so hard it hurt, his hands thrumming with adrenaline. It seemed all dead here, frozen still life portraits of something lost years ago. Grey and white and— there! 

A peek of bright orange, barely poking out of the snow. His sled. 

Leo collapsed beside it, digging immediately, heart in his throat. “Mike! Mikey, can you hear me, buddy? Are you— can you say something?” 

He wiggled the sled free after a long frantic moment, using it like a shovel. What if Mikey wasn’t even under it, what if the sled had flung itself the opposite direction, and Leo was wasting time— 

A gloved hand reached up through the layer of snow, weakly. “Oh thank fuck,” Leo breathed, and dropped the sled to grab at it with both hands. “You okay? Can you— is anything broken?” 

Mikey’s face appeared, paler than usual. Bunches of snow tucked against his eyelids. The most wonderful sight he’d ever seen. 

“C’n get it off,” he said, barely a mumble. Leo leaned in. 

“What was that, sweetheart?” 

Mikey’s face scrunched, a barely there motion but something that shot right through Leo’s heart with every big brother instinct he owned. “Snow. M’ eyes.”

“Oh,” Leo chucked, nervous and rabbit quick with fear. “I got you, shush. Hold on, Sunshine.” He pulled his glove off with a thumb, wiping at Mikey’s eyes as careful as anything. His hands shook violently.

Mikey cautiously blinked up at him, eyes dazed. “Leo, I’m sleepy.” 

Leo shoved his glove back on, pushed the remainder of the snow off Mikey’s legs. Unburying him as much as he could. “I bet, big day for you, huh? How’s about we get you down the hill–”

“No,” Mikey’s voice got a little clearer. “I’m. You said to say. If we’re cold and sleepy. I remembered.” 

Oh. Oh, shit. Leo made himself smile. “That’s right, I did say that. Great job for telling me. We’ll get you warmed up right away, okay? But I— I need you to stay awake before that, okay? Can you do that?” 

Mikey’s eyes fluttered. “Try.” 

The whiplash of fear and relief was making Leo dizzy. He nodded frantically, made himself stop. Mikey’d landed the right way up under the snow, had almost certainly hit his head from how his pupils looked, but he didn’t know if anything was broken. He shouldn’t move Mikey until he was sure, but— there was blue, just there ever so slightly. The edges of Mikey’s lips. Shit. Shit. 

“I’m going to lift you up, okay? Tell me if it hurts.” 

“‘Mm.” Mikey’s head flopped back into the snow. His hat was missing, Leo realized. He didn’t know where Mikey’s hat went. 

“Okay, that’s– that’s good. Hey, you were saying something about hot chocolate earlier. Can you remind me? You always make it the best.” He slid his arms under Mikey’s shell, one under his legs. Mikey rolled his head towards him as he pulled him towards himself like a limp doll– Leo made himself stop noticing. 

“Mousse,” Mikey said, simply. “And sprinkles.” He added, more crossly. 

Leo chuckled, then grimaced as he carefully moved to stand. “Yum, that sounds great. Hey, nothing hurts, right? You’re not being brave on me, are you?” 

Mikey let out a vague mumble, then frowned. “Raph was. He was gunna eat all my cherries, for the hot chocolate.” 

Fifteen years of growing up with Michelangelo was the only thing that prevented Leo from freezing in sheer confusion. The best way through was with him. “Oh? I’ll tell him not to.” 

“Good,” Mikey said, with a tiny head not he seemed to regret. “You can have one, though.” 

The trek back down was going to be slow, Leo thought. He smiled vaguely at Mike, listening carefully for any angry mountain noises around them. April and Donnie seemed to have noticed him already, at least. April was sprinting back to the house. 

“I’m special? Didn’t know you liked me carrying you so much.”  

Mikey huffed, sounding more like a sniff. “Didn’t put snow d’wn my. Down my jacket.” 

“Hm. Think that might have been the mountain, Miguelito. Are you feeling sleepy still?” 

“Head hurts,” Mikey said after a moment. “Oh. We were sledding.” 

Okay, good. Leo breathed out. “Yep. You got surprise attacked a little bit there, so we’re done for the day I think.” 

“Aw,” Mikey whined. Looked up at Leo with big eyes. “I lost my boot.”

His little brother, Leo thought with a wave of fondness so loud it felt like a heart attack. He nodded seriously. “April will forgive you.” 

He hefted Mikey up higher, making sure his arms are tucked in and his face pressed to the warmest parts of Leo's jacket. Hot baths and big blankets aside, he was going to make Mikey the biggest, sweetest hot chocolate the world had ever seen.

"Big shitty rom-com marathon in your future, Angie."

Mike sighs, just there against his pocket, looking smaller than anything without his mask. "Can we play the mustache game?"

He'll tape as many fake mustaches all over the screen as the kid wants, he thinks. "Mhmm. I won't even cheat."

"Yay," Mikey said tiredly. "Thanks f'r not letting me be a turtle pop."

"You got it, sunshine." His heart right between his hands. "Anytime."

[kiquebi]

Hiii my brain is too chemistry filled rn soooooo

Odyssey brain rot time

I think sailor!Wifies au where this guy is also just obsessed with the starry sky.

Wifies sails the seas while charting the stars and the star he loves most is the North Star, whom his ship’s bow is always angled towards. It’s his sense of direction, his guiding light, and he intends to chase it for the rest of his life.

One night though, while Wifies is gazing at the night sky through his trusty spyglass, the North Star fucking shifts. Wifies is convinced that he’s dreaming, until he realizes that yeah, it’s moving and turning into a streak and becoming BIGGER. He quickly becomes aware that there’s a comet rapidly approaching his location and he’s probably not coming out of this alive.

As the light gets closer though, Wifies sees that it’s shrinking and he realizes he’s probably not dying tonight. It crashes into the sea in front of him and Wifies rushes to the deck of his ship to see a person in the water.

He hops into the sea and brings up this guy who apparently fell from the sky and surprise surprise it’s northstar!Parrot.

According to him, he’s a star who had his wings stolen by blackhole!Spoke. Spoke had apparently hid them somewhere in the human realm and he needs to find them to get back home.

He asks Wifies to help him find them and Wifies just nods and internally he’s ‘yes mr North Star sir I’ve dedicated my whole life into following you and it isn’t gonna stop now’. So then they go on a grand adventure to find Parrot’s wings.

Since the North Star is just gone now, Parrot directly guides Wifies across the seven seas and Wifies gifts him his spyglass so he can gaze upon the sky that was once his home.

Wifies gets so attached to Parrot and when they do get his wings back, he’s reluctant to let Parrot go. But he knows Parrot needs to leave, for Wifies isn’t the only mortal Parrot guides and he can’t stay here for him alone.

He tells himself that even without Parrot at his side, he’ll still be his guiding light up in the night sky. Their goodbye is bittersweet and full of tears, and Wifies spends the rest of his mortal lifespan sailing the seas with his beloved spyglass, permanently sparkling with stardust left behind by Parrot.

Wifies is just mortal though, and eventually he succumbs to old age like any other mortal does. Every year onwards, on the day of his death, in an act of selfishness, Parrot drops down to the mortal plane once again to drift the sea on Wifies’ now abandoned ship kept adrift and intact by his celestial magic.

In the end, Wifies becomes a legend of the sea, the captain of a ghost ship that guides those lost at sea on the one night the North Star fails to shine in the night sky.

[daddy-dins-girl]

First Date: Frankie Morales

HAPPY FRANKIE FRIDAY Y'ALL!

Masterlist

AO3 link

Frankie Morales x f!Reader

Summary: Based on this tumblr Ask. A full one-shot based on a quick little headcanon drabble I wrote about what a first date with Frankie Morales might look like. There's a little of backstory for Reader because it's me and you know I just can't help myself.

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI. Fluff and smut (because we like to strike a delicate balance here). Porn with a sprinkle of plot (again, delicate balance). Cuteness overload during your date with Frankie (sign me up for this date please). Heavy makeout session. Mutual masturbation. Fooling around in the back of Frankie's truck because of uh... reasons. Read to find out! I think that's it for warnings. As far as my stuff goes I'd say this is pretty tame? lol. But if I missed anything lmk!

Notes: I hope there aren't any glaring mistakes here. If I find any I'll come back and edit. Tbh I wrote 99% of it on my phone because our wifi was down for THREE DAYS here (RIP me!). It finally came back this morning just in time for me to post this for Frankie Friday ❤️

You tap your phone’s screen to illuminate it and check the time for probably the fifteenth time in as many minutes to make sure you’re not running late yet as you stand over the bathroom counter putting the final touches on your appearance, wanting to look perfect for tonight. Nerves flutter in your tummy like butterflies and you have to constantly remind yourself to calm down, take it easy.

“It’s just Fish, nothing to get yourself all worked up about” Benny had offered earlier, unhelpfully.

Sure, to your cousins Benny and Will it was just their longtime friend and military buddy, but to you it was the very cute, though very shy, sweet guy that you had met for the first time only recently since you came to “temporarily” crash at your cousins place.

Temporarily had turned into three months far faster than you anticipated. You needed a fresh start, to get out of a not great situation and it was actually your Aunt who had suggested the move to you during your phone call to her on her birthday. Your mother had already been filling her ear with your personal drama it seemed and though she didn’t want to pry, she did want to help and she suggested getting away for even a couple of weeks, that her sons had lots of room at their place and would be happy to have you for a while. After a few phone calls with both Will and Benny they had settled any doubts you might’ve had and welcomed you with open arms when you showed up at their doorstep with little more than a single roller suitcase and a small potted plant under your arm. It was about all the possessions you had left after the less than amicable split with your ex that left you couch surfing at your friends for months before the transition to Will and Benny’s.

So now here you stand, in the bathroom of the guest bedroom you have been calling your own for three months, getting ready for a date with the painstakingly handsome pilot himself, Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales.

You know how badly your cousins have been teasing you about the date, you can’t even begin to imagine the ribbing Frankie must have been taking from them since he’d asked you out last Sunday at a barbecue Will and Benny had been hosting and they’d somehow gotten wind of it. You’re surprised Frankie even kept the date, to be honest. Your cousins, you love them with all your heart, but they can be… a lot. You’re very glad Frankie didn’t back down to the pressure though. You’d seen him a fair bit in your few months here and have been dying for him to finally ask you out. You’d flirted enough and though he’d been quiet and shy in the beginning, the more you got to know each other, the more he seemed to come out of his shell around you.

So now here you were, moments before Frankie was due to show up at your door and you silently cursed yourself for not being as ready as you should be. You wanted to be ready and standing outside by now so that Will and Benny couldn’t get any more jabs in to poor sweet Frankie if he had to stand at the door waiting for you, but as you pull on the short, light denim jacket over your sundress you hear a bark of laughter from Benny and already you know you’re too late.

You quickly press some lip gloss on, run your hands through your hair to make sure it’s falling exactly how you want it to and then take a deep breath in the mirror and quickly scurry out of the bedroom to hopefully save the man that is standing outside on the porch.

“No keeping her out past curfew, no drinkin’ and drivin’, no crazy parties or gettin’ too handsy on the first date”

Benny is listing things off on his fingers to poor Frankie like he’s your father scalding your prom date and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“Will, you said you’d both be nice” you complain out loud to the older of the two brothers. Will wasn’t much better, but sometimes talking to Benny was like talking to a toddler amped up on a pack of Skittles, there was no getting through when he got over excited about something.

The most ridiculous part about it was that you and Benny were about the same age so it was a little comical, though sweet in his own way, how he tried to ‘big brother’ you.

“Ah c’mon Ace, we were just joshin’ him a bit” Will replies, bright white smile gleaming at you with a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes.

Ace of course being the nickname they had stuck you with since you were old enough to remember. Any family event you’d ever attended whenever there was any sort of game or sport going on the two boys always ensured you were on their team, likely because you were the only one close in age to them but you liked to tell yourself that it was also because the three of you always had fun together. They have always been so competitive and any time they won (largely due to their own efforts) they were sure to tell everyone that it was all because of you, that you were ‘the ace up their sleeve’ even when you barely did anything. Hell most softball games you preferred to sit in the grass picking flowers while they ran circles around you like pro athletes, but it was sweet how they always made sure to include you and make you feel good about yourself.

“Well we agreed you two goons wouldn’t scare him away” you remind them with a playful roll of your eyes and a swat to Benny’s shoulder when you finally reach the doorway.

You can see Frankie’s appreciative gaze roam over you from head to toe and as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and nervously adjusts his ball cap you know he’s itching to say something to you but probably weighing the pros and cons in his head about the two extra sets of ears hearing what’s meant only for you and so you decide for him. You shove past your two cousins, quickly tell them you love them and not to wait up and push them far enough back in the house so you can slam the door shut, finally leaving you on the porch with just Frankie.

“Hi” you breathe out, a smile spreading across your lips. He looks casual but deliciously handsome in a pair of dark tan khaki pants and an untucked light blue button down with the sleeves rolled up, putting his tanned and muscular forearms on display. He still has his infamous Standard Oil hat on, hints of chocolate brown curls peeking out from underneath it. You don’t think you’ve actually ever seen him without it, come to think of it. You try to picture him without it and an image just doesn’t come.

“You look beautiful” he tells you, a hint of shyness in his tone and a blush rises in your cheeks that didn’t come from a makeup stick.

“Thank you. I’m sorry about tweedle-dee and tweedle-A-D-D in there” you joke, gesturing a thumb over your shoulder at your two cousins who are currently fighting each other over who gets to look through the small pane of glass next to the door to watch your interactions with Frankie on the front step.

“Unfortunately I’m very used to it” he quips, giving you a warm smile. “Shall we?” He asks, sweeping an arm out towards his truck idling at the curb and you nod your head and lead the way.

Before you reach the truck however Frankie jogs up behind you to brush past and ensures he reaches the passenger door handle before you do and opens it wide, offering you a hand to help you up and inside. You both decide to ignore the whooping yells and hands slamming on the glass next to the door at the top of the walkway behind you.

“Let’s get the hell out of here, shall we?” You offer once Frankie’s climbed into the driver's seat next to you and he chuckles but nods his head.

“With pleasure” he agrees and pulls the truck away from the curb.

You’re driving for nearly an hour. Frankie had apologized already on several occasions, admonishing himself for not preparing you beforehand to make sure you wouldn’t be too hungry when he picked you up. You tell him it's fine countless times but he still admits he should’ve discussed his plan with you ahead of time.

“Hey, if what you say is true and these really are the best tacos I’ve ever had, you’ll not only be forgiven but I’ll be glad I was ravenous by the time we get there” you tell him and finally he seems to accept it and offers you a small smile, hand going to the dial on the radio to turn the classic rock tunes up just a little bit for the last few minutes of your drive.

The drive is nice. The ocean follows along in your journey when you look out your window and the way the sun sits in the sky you know it’ll be threatening to set not long after you arrive at your destination. Truth be told you were a little nervous when you first started driving and Frankie mentioned how long the trip would be. You worried that you wouldn’t have much to chat about or that it might get awkward but it had been anything but. Besides Frankie’s little bouts of anxiety about whether or not he should’ve mentioned to you what time you’d actually be eating, everything was going better than you had expected. The conversation seemed to flow easily between the two of you. You had enough jumping off points, with both of you having more than your fair share of stories or anecdotes about Will and Benny. You shared stories of your youths while Frankie caught you up on some of the more recent goings-on with them that you hadn’t been privy to since, before recently, you obviously spent a lot less time with them in your adult years versus the childhood ones. Before long the conversations shifted more to yourselves and your own personal lives and before you knew it Frankie was pulling the truck into a crowded parking lot in front of the beach.

You make your way through the throngs of people on the boardwalk, Frankie’s warm hand on your lower back a steadying presence as he guides you through the crowds towards the brightly painted green and yellow food truck off in the not-too-far distance. Your mouth is watering already and you’re not sure whether it’s for the tacos or the man on your left with the broad shoulders and thick arms but a gentle, calming touch.

If you had to venture a guess, it would be for the latter.

Frankie, to his credit, was absolutely right about the tacos. You’re halfway through your third one when you finally tap out and call it quits, unable to possibly stomach another bite - despite how delicious they are.

“I can’t. I want to, but I can’t” you admit defeat to what’s left of your dinner, tossing your napkin on top of your paper plate and holding your hands up in surrender and the corner of Frankie’s mouth curls up into a smirk.

“They’re good right?” He grins at you from across the picnic table while he stuffs the last bite of his own into his mouth and you roll your eyes dramatically at how good in fact they were.

“They were amazing, seriously. Well worth the drive and the wait” you tell him sincerely and then before you can talk yourself out of it you reach across the table to place your hand on top of his and give a little squeeze with your fingers.

“Thank you for dinner. I’m um… really glad you asked me out tonight”

That confession earns you an ear to ear grin from Frankie who swallows down the last bit of his dinner and then turns his hand palm-up so he can hold your fingers in his grasp.

“Me too. But, the night’s not over” he offers with a playful quirk of his eyebrow.

“There’s more?” Your brow line lifts to your forehead. “I’m going to need a few minutes to digest first” you laugh, placing a hand over your stomach and Frankie chuckles but nods his head in agreement.

“Take all the time you need,” he tells you.

The sun is beginning its descent from the sky as you sit at the table a while longer, happily chatting about everything and nothing. You ask Frankie more about his young daughter and can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips the way his face lights up when he speaks about her or shows you his favourite pictures or videos of her on his phone.

With your food finally settled you’re back to wandering the boardwalk again with Frankie leading the way. He stops you at an ice cream truck and you groan at the idea of having to shove more food into your stomach but the childish grin and teasing nudge to your side with his elbow convinces you to take him up on his offer anyway and you ask for small scoop of the bright orange Tiger Stripe flavour in a dish while Frankie opts for a waffle cone of classic Mint Chocolate Chip.

With no small effort you manage to finish the sweet dessert and toss your garbage into a nearby receptacle and Frankie nudges your shoulder with his and gestures with an outstretched arm towards the beach.

“Wanna go walk it off?” He suggests and you give him an easy smile, more than excited about taking a romantic walk down the beach at sunset with him.

The warm sand squishes between your toes as you walk the length of the beach. Frankie had insisted on carrying your shoes for you when you opted to take them off; the strappy sandals hanging from the fingertips of his right hand while his left brushes experimentally against the back of your right and you turn your palm towards him and he wastes no time taking hold, your fingers interlacing. You smile and press a little closer into his shoulder.

“This is perfect” you sigh as soft waves lap at your feet and the sun bids it’s final adieu for the evening, disappearing just past the horizon on the other side of the ocean.

“So I did good?” Frankie smirks at you and you let out a little laugh, nodding your head.

“Ten out of ten would recommend” you answer without hesitation.

“Recommend to who? If you think I’m taking Benny on a date next you’re poorly mistaken” he jokes and it earns an outburst of laughter from you as you grab onto his forearm with your free hand and lean further in still.

“You guys could make a pretty cute couple” you tease and he rolls his eyes, shaking his head in laughter.

“Already got the prettiest Miller on my arm, thank you very much” he affirms and your giggles die down as the blush re-emerges and you turn your gaze down to the sand at your feet and squeeze his arm just a little tighter as a thank you to his easy compliment.

You walk a little while longer, your fingers still entwined and your free hand wrapped around his arm that’s holding your hand, snuggling as close as possible while you continue to chat and joke and tease each other.

Being with Frankie seems so easy. Normally you were so nervous during first dates and it’s been so long since you’ve actually been on one you could barely remember what it normally feels like but you’re certain it’s never felt like this. You felt comfortable. And maybe a lot of that had to do with the fact that you’ve already met with and hung out with him on numerous occasions now there was less to be nervous about. But you think it’s mostly him. He’s so easy going and calm to be around; he just puts you at ease with one upward curve of his lips or the way his soft brown gaze seemingly bores into your very soul with a single look.

Besides that, you knew he must be a pretty decent guy or Will and Benny would’ve had something (aside from friendly teasing) to say about it. They were the big brothers you never had growing up, always looking out for you until your lives took you all down very separate paths and if they trusted Frankie with you, you knew you were in good hands.

Hands that were currently, mind you, smoothing up and down your sides as Frankie pressed you into the passenger door of his pickup as you stood on the street outside your temporary home saying your goodnights.

“Kiss me” you breathe into the limited space between your two bodies that are thrumming with unspent energy.

Not bothering with a verbal response, Frankie closes the distance between you, his lips capturing yours finally for that first kiss you’ve been craving since he picked you up hours ago. He tastes like mint and chocolate, and although normally it would be one of the last options you go for at the ice cream shop, the way it tastes on Frankie’s tongue instantly makes it your new favourite.

The energy in the cab of his truck the whole ride back had been tangible, his right hand on your thigh, yours trying not to dig into the plush material of the seats as you tried to focus your mind on anything other than ordering him to pull the truck into park so you could crawl into his lap and thank him properly, the way you wanted to so badly.

“Hermosa,” Frankie groans, his mouth trailing now from your lips down your jaw and to the side of your throat as his hands grip your hips. The scruff of his beard brushes the delicate skin of your neck when he nuzzles further into you and heat instantly pools in the lower part of your belly, causing a little moan to slip out. You feel your breath quicken, heart rate speeding up to keep pace with Frankie’s that you can feel through your clothes with how closely he’s pressed against you. Your arms raise to wrap around his neck, hands playing with the soft curls at the back of his head, running your fingers through them (something you’d been dying to do since the first time you met him, if you’re being honest with yourself).

“Should’ve taken me back to yours” you whisper against his ear as he continues to nip, lick and kiss at your throat.

“Santi��s on my goddamn couch” he groans, annoyed.

You remembered, now that he’s said it. Santiago, another military buddy of your cousins that you’d met a few times and one of Frankie’s best friends, had been having problems with his girlfriend and a week ago she had actually kicked him out of their shared apartment and with you taking up residence in Will and Benny’s guest room, that left Frankie’s couch.

“Shit” you mutter. You don’t dare take him inside to your room. Though the house looks dark and the boys are probably asleep, that’s not something you’re going to chance. At least not on a first date. You don’t need their judgment, nor do you need Frankie holding anything back from you due to the unfortunate circumstances.

His mouth is back on yours, unable to stay away from it for long it seems. His tongue pushes inside and strokes alongside yours, causing a little shiver to run down your spine. He licks into your mouth, exploring every cavern and swallowing all your little whimpers and whines. Frankie was an amazing kisser. You can’t help but wonder how talented his tongue may be elsewhere; the thought alone sending a fresh wave of arousal through you and causing another moan to slip out which Frankie responds to with one of his own. His right hand leaves your hip and goes to your thigh next, gently raising your leg off the ground to wrap around him and a gasp escapes you when his hand slips under the hem of your dress and trails upwards towards your hip.

“Fuck, Frankie” you breathe, pulling back just enough so you can start peppering kisses to his strong jawline.

“Tell me to stop, fuck, you need to tell me stop” Frankie pleads. You can feel his obvious desire for you pressed into your stomach as his left hand moves down to grope your ass and pull you even closer against him.

“Mmm, don’t want to” you hum into his throat and he groans in desperation, rocking his hips into you and causing a delicious bit of friction where you need it most. Your whole body is tingling, feeling like you could combust at any moment. Your muscles are tense, hands fighting for purchase on any part of him they can grab onto, eager to keep him from convincing himself to pull away from you.

Just when you feel him begin to pull back you do the only thing that comes to mind and turn in his grasp and reach for the back passenger door of the crew cab, swinging it open and pulling him back towards you by the collar of his shirt.

“Fuck, Sweetheart” he stops dead in his tracks, feet outside on the ground still while your ass hits the back seat so you’re seated sideways on the seat, facing him.

“Look, I might not be up for Gentleman of the Year Award or anything, but I’m not… I can’t have our first time be in the back of my truck. You deserve so much better than that”

Your brain doesn’t miss how he says ‘first time’ like it implies that there will be more times, and god you hope there is. And while you don’t disagree with him that fucking in his car like teenagers isn’t maybe the most romantic way to do this, you still need something and you don’t want this night to be over yet.

“Just… come fool around with me a little bit” you shrug, coy little grin tugging at the corners of your lips and you see on his adorable face the moment his resolve crumbles. He’s hopping up into the truck in a flash, slamming the door shut behind him. He pushes you back onto the bench seat so you’re flat on your back and finally rips his hat off his head and tosses it carelessly somewhere to the floor and you’re in a fit of giggles at the playfulness of it all. The laughter dies on your lips however when he’s kneeled before your spread legs and drags your knees up to his hips and presses himself down on top of you, capturing your mouth in a heated kiss while his lower half grinds into yours.

“Is this OK?” He murmurs into the side of your face as his kisses trail towards your throat.

“Mmm hmm” you nod frantically. “More than OK” you promise.

He hums into your throat and brings his right hand to your breast, his large hand covering the mound and gently massaging the soft flesh, kneading and squeezing just right as your little moans and the way your back arches to push your chest further into his touch encourages him.

“Fuck,” he growls before shoving the front of your dress and cups of your bra down so he can get his mouth on bare skin.

He pulls away from your throat and shuffles down slightly, leaning down to swirl the tip of his tongue around the pert bud and then gently pull it into his mouth. He alternates between sucking it into his mouth and teasing with quick flicks of his tongue while nimble fingers pay the other equal attention and you writhe underneath him, grinding into his leg, desperate for any friction you can create.

“Perfect tits” he mumbles into your skin before his mouth switches sides. Your hands are in his hair, gently tugging and scratching over his scalp and the way he occasionally groans and grunts at your actions you know he likes it. You wish you weren’t shoved inside the back of his pickup right now. Oh the things you would let his mouth do to you if you weren’t…

After long minutes of attention spent on your breasts his mouth is finally back on yours. He moans into you when his tongue wraps around yours again and you decide to play a little dirty yourself and wrap your lips around his tongue and suck it into your mouth, just for a moment and then you release. You feel his hardened cock twitch against your hip when he grinds it into you.

“Tell me what you want, Baby” he asks between ragged breaths as his lips create a hot trail of open mouthed kisses down to your collarbone.

You decide to show him, rather than tell him, and reach for his right hand and bring it underneath your dress to the aching need between your thighs and he practically growls into your throat when he feels the damp spot that’s already formed on your panties.

“Oh my god” he groans, taking his first two fingers and rubbing your lower lips over the soft, soaked lace.

“Oh fuck, Frankie, you feel so good” you whine, not caring how wrecked you sound already.

His mouth covers yours again, his kiss hungry and needy as his fingers bravely dip under the waistline of your panties to finally touch your naked sex and push through the warm slick folds.

“Oh my god, make me come baby, please. Fuck.” You beg, your hands wrapping around his neck again and grabbing on for dear life. It’s been far too long and Frankie is quickly unraveling you into a mewling desperate mess.

“I’ve got you, Hermosa” Frankie promises, his breath hot against your ear now and you don’t doubt that he does. His skilled digits are already driving you crazy and he’s barely begun. Maybe it’s because it’s been a while, or maybe Frankie just really knows his way around a pussy.

He plunges two fingers inside of you and you cry out at the welcomed intrusion, whimpering into his shoulder at how he’s nearly got you undone already.

“God you feel fucking amazing” he groans into your heated flesh.

“Fuck Frankie, don’t stop, please” you whimper.

He doesn’t. His fingers continue their torturous assault, pumping in and out of you and occasionally coming out to rub tight little circles around your small bundle of nerves that causes your arm to shoot up in the air, palm of your hand pushing hard against the ceiling of the truck cab as your impending orgasm lingers threateningly.

“Let me touch you, please” you beg and Frankie growls in response before his free hand goes to his pants and nearly rips them open so he can push them down to his thighs and your hand immediately wraps around his throbbing length.

“Holy shit” you breathe. Your fingers failing to quite reach all the way around his impressive girth. He’s warm and heavy in your hand, precum steadily leaking from the head that you gather in your hand to use to coat down the rest of his length.

“Christ” Frankie grunts, unable to stop himself from thrusting his hips once to fuck into your hand. “Shit I’m sorry it’s um, been a while” he confesses shyly and you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“For me too” you tell him, easing his nerves. “God Frankie, I’m so close”

With that he pulls his hand away from you for only a moment, bringing it to his mouth to wet his fingers with his tongue and then they’re back on your clit, experimenting between rubbing and circling and pressing and even lightly pinching until he finds out exactly what makes you squirm under him and he doubles his efforts, working you faster and faster with the pads of his fingertips until you’re coming hard and fast with his name on your lips as you rock into his hand to chase the pressure of his touch.

“Oh fuck, that’s it” Frankie groans into the hollow of your throat, his fingers sticky and slick with your release. “God you’re so beautiful” he praises, pressing kisses to every inch of flesh he can reach.

His fingers continue to languidly stroke through your folds, easing you down from your high while his own breathing picks up at your continued actions below; practiced strokes of your hand wrapped around him while your thumb occasionally ghosts over his slit, gathering the evidence of his arousal and smearing it all over the thick and sensitive head.

“Fuck, I’m close” he warns, eyes screwed shut in concentration, his forehead now resting against yours. “Fuck!” He curses again and then quickly sits up on his knees, causing your hand to fall away from him and he takes himself in hand to finish himself off, not wanting to make a mess all over you or your pretty dress. Not having much option he yanks his shirt up instead and coats his own stomach with white hot ropes of his release until he’s left heaving and panting on his knees before you, free hand clutched tight on your knee beside him, fingers digging in deep enough you think they’ll leave bruises.

You’ll wear them like a badge of honor.

“Shit,” he breathes and then huffs out a little laugh. His eyes dart around for a moment and then he reaches into the little pocket on the back of the front passengers seat and pulls out a somewhat squished little pack of wet wipes (one of the conveniences of having a small child you presume, always lots of supplies around that adults might not otherwise think of keeping handy) and grabs a couple sheets and wipes up the mess he made of himself before shoving the wipes back into the pocket. You’re staring up at him, tip of your pointer finger between your teeth and a coy grin playing on your lips.

That was by far the absolute hottest make out session you’d ever had. Where has Frankie Morales been all your life, and what had you done to deserve him now?

“Are you still OK? That was… OK?” He asks and it’s sweet how he doesn’t even know how badly he just rocked your whole world.

“Ten out of ten would recommend” you retort teasingly, lifting your foot to push gently at his hip and he rolls his eyes playfully and lands a little swat to your thigh.

“Smartass. Maybe I oughta trade you in for Benny after all” he quips. “Get a lot less lip I bet”

“Hmm, but probably a lot less tongue too” you tease right back and he groans as you yank him down on top of you by his collar once more.

You’re not quite finished with Frankie Morales just yet.

Taglist: @yorksgirl @chronically-ghosted @rav3n-pascal22 @suzdin @boliv-jenta @senaar-ika @nerdieforpedro @theywhowriteandknowthings @within-the-depths @axshadows @iamasaddie @macabremads @prolix-yuy @vickywallace @survivingandenduring

If you'd like to be added, lmk!

[cosmic-tuna]

constantly and incredibly angry at how inaccessible the world is without a phone.

see, a while back i couldn't pay my phone bills. so my phone was more just a tiny computer. no calls, no service outside home wifi, no texts or anything. i couldn't use the map app to find destinations on the road. roommates couldn't message me important things if i was running an errand.

i was practically locked out of my college courses because our campus demanded 2fa. you know what 2fa needs? the ability to TEXT you a number, if you don't jump through hoops to set up alternative no-call-required settings.

then i got my service back, and things were good.

for a month or two.

last month, my phone started experiencing crashes. it would just freeze, turn off, and restart. there'd be a lil glitch line more often than not. it wasn't bad at first - once a few days. once a day. a few times a day. i thought it was from me scrolling long webtoons, or some kind of user input. so, i stopped that. the crashes kept going.

i took the phone to a repair store when it turned off and didn't turn on for over 30 minutes. they were lucky enough to reboot it long enough to save all the info. the cause was a faulty motherboard that just chose to give out on me.

so. no phone at all. and you know what? i can't call jury duty to let them know i'm coming in. i can't access ANY authentication app to log into my college account and sign up for classes. i can't message friends without using my computer or my ipad. petty enough, i can't listen to music in the shower anymore or count my daily steps or play my dress up games.

but it's so fucking frustrating. QR codes everywhere, demands for phone numbers and 2fa. i can't sign up for some things, because they want to send me a text to see if i'm me.

the world has become far too reliant on phones. and i for one fucking hate it.

[stonecoldholly]

Worldwalker: Chapter 2

Summary - After witnessing a ritual at a pagan festival in her hometown, Sam suddenly finds herself in a world where magic exists and dangers far worse than everyday crime lurk around every corner. Accepting her unfortunate situation is one challenge; trusting these otherworldly beings to help her is another. As she uncovers the truth, she often finds that it leads to more trouble than it’s worth. Sam must navigate this new world, find her way back home, and restart her life.

With each passing day, they get closer to sending her back and while Sam dedicates herself to finding answers, Azriel finds himself drawn to her. Together, they search for the solution, but with the multiple rifts appearing across Prythian, rising tensions between courts, and the threat of a possible invasion looming, they are working on borrowed time.

With the weight of the world on her shoulders, Sam embarks on an adventure that only happens in fairy tales, but even the most exciting fairy tales have to end.

Warnings - mentions of death, multiple mentions of a firearm and using it, angst

Word Count - 6,752

A/N - We're getting somewhere now! Feel free to read this on AO3! My username is the same. I will admit that I still don't know how to make my posts all fancy like everyone else, but I'm trying to learn. I'll get there eventually. In future chapters, I will remove part of the summary from my chapter posts.

Part 3

AO3 Link

“I was only looking for the shortcut home. But it’s complicated, so complicated. Somewhere in this city is a road I know. Where we could make it but maybe there’s no making it now.” It Is What It Is - Lifehouse

Unknown Location

It was unlike anything she had ever seen before.

Golden rays of light were streaming through trees blazing with autumn; red, yellow, and amber leaves littered the ground as she slowly rotated in a circle, completely awestruck. A thick carpet of leaves covered the soggy forest floor and the overhanging branches, desperately holding onto the lush foliage it once had, reached towards the sky as though to welcome the rising sun. The musty scent of decomposing leaves and damp earth assaulted her senses and the rustling of wildlife on the hunt for food echoed in the distance. The forest went on as far as the eye could see with colors so vivid, that her senses couldn’t drink in the surroundings fast enough, let alone fully comprehend it.

“Where in the hell am I?” Sam asked out loud, breathless at how vibrant the colors around her were. “There is no way I am in Savannah.”

Sam’s feet started to move as she continued to turn in a circle, looking up, around, down, everywhere she could. She yelped as her boot caught the hump of a jutting root, sending her crashing down into a mud puddle ass first.

‘God damn it, these were new jeans.’

She tucked her pride in the back pocket of her mind and stood, stomping on the ground to get what mud she could off her. She looked around again, listening for anything indicating running water, a house, civilization, anything that would help her. She was completely thrown off and off-kilter. It was just nighttime five minutes ago in the city and now the sun was coming in the middle of a dense, ancient forest.

She pulled her phone out of her back pocket, wiping the mud off it. The screen turned on, but the ‘No Service’ displayed in the top right corner next to the 72% battery caused a sinking feeling in her gut.

‘Can’t call for help.’

On a whim, she tried to find a WiFi signal to latch on to. That, too, proved useless.

She sighed heavily, “And no way to pull up a map. Does the compass work without WiFi?” She asked to the air, tapping on her phone and trying to pull up the compass but the app kept crashing. She rolled her eyes, “Well, thank god for all the music I downloaded, at least there’s that.”

With nothing left to lose, she began to walk through the forest. She only hoped that she was heading in the direction of help.

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She walked for hours. Her legs cramped from not taking many rest stops, her calves were sore and tight from the uneven terrain of the woods, and scrapes and cuts littered her hands and face from being smacked by branches and thorny bushes. She could feel the blisters starting to form on her heels from wearing her boots for so long and she was physically exhausted. She needed a break, she was tired, thirsty, hungry, and scared.

She hadn’t come across anything that could pass as a shelter, the ground and debris were wet, and wasting energy on trying to start a fire wouldn’t be beneficial. She had nothing to make a trap for small wildlife nor did she have a knife to help prep the animal in the event she caught one. She also didn’t know if she had the stomach for it, used to getting her prepackaged meat from the Food Lion down the road. She could shoot the animal, but the not having a knife issue came back up, and she hadn’t seen an animal yet- only heard them way off in the distance.

As the night started to settle in and her journey led her deeper and deeper into the ever-darkening forest, Sam’s anxiety continued to spike bordering on paranoia. Every rustle of the leaves, every snap of a twig, every soft howl of the wind caused her to jump in fright. She would whirl around in the direction of each sound, breathing heavily and eyes blown wide, only to be met with increasing shadows at her back. The death grip she had on her weapon did nothing to ease her fear; the weight of it was more than just its heaviness.

She was always taught that in the event that a weapon needed to be discharged, the situation must be so dire that you fear for your life. The decision to pull the trigger should never be taken lightly and it should be regarded as a last resort in a worst-case scenario.

This was a worst-case scenario.

Sam was lost in a strange forest at night time with no supplies or gear to survive, armed with only a handgun with a full clip, a cellphone with no service, the clothes on her back, and her limited knowledge of outdoor survival. The odds of her surviving or finding help decreased with every passing minute. She knew the basics of hunting and making a camp, but not enough to increase her odds of walking out of the woods alive.

She considered herself a brave woman, having faced considerable terrifying instances in her 30 years of life but there was nothing in her past that could have prepared her for this. At what point does anyone think the impossible would happen to them? Savannah didn’t have a forest like this, they had a National Wildlife preserve on the opposite side of town, and trees scattered along city park squares did not count as a ‘forest’. It also didn’t get this chilly in October in Savannah, waiting until February or even March for these cold temperatures. The likelihood of her still being near the city was slim to none.

Her stomach was starting to protest in hunger and her mouth was as dry as a desert. She hadn’t come across any bodies of water or a flowing river to help relieve her thirst. The forest was damp so it must have rained recently, perhaps that there was a small puddle of water gathered on some of the larger leaves that would pass as a sip for her. Unfortunately, it was not proving to be fruitful for her either.

Yes, the odds were stacked higher against her.

She sighed heavily and continued to walk through the woods, her steps crunching the undergrowth beneath her feet. Sam could only catch a glimpse of the moon piercing through the overhanging limbs of the trees every so often, the shadows dancing along the path and illuminating animal trails that disappeared into clusters of bushes.

Every sound was intensified at night, the forest being no different. Sam was not normally afraid of the dark, preferring to be left alone in it, but this was a different kind of dark, one she was not used to. She was breathing too loud and too hard, the sound of her blood rushing in her ears was thunderous, and her footsteps were completely out of place in the thick, misty atmosphere. She could hear the trunks of the trees creaking, the yips of foxes, the wind caressing the leaves with every light gust, and howls of wolves from miles away.

She needed to sleep. She was of no use if she didn’t get some rest. She knew that sleeping on the cold, wet ground was not ideal and that she would need to be elevated from the forest floor. Not only to save her from the possibility of getting hypothermia but also from curious animals in search of an easy meal. She had no desire to be served up on a silver platter to one of the apex predators in these woods.

Sam stopped once she came across a tall, solid tree with thick, long limbs spreading away from its trunk. This would have to do for a few hours, at least until sunrise. Clicking on the safety and holstering her gun, she searched the bushes for a long piece of thick vine that was malleable enough to be bent and tied around her and the branch she claimed as her bed for the night. Scurrying up the trunk to the highest branch she felt comfortable at, she wrapped the vine around her thighs and the branch, tying it as tight as she could without snapping it in half.

The rough bark of the tree trunk scratched against her scalp and she did her best to ignore it as she stared at the moon through a small opening in the tree's canopy. Getting lost in her thoughts, her loneliness and anxiety reaching a peak, she let her thoughts pass unfiltered and unrestrained.

‘Did I do something to deserve this? I don’t want to die here.’

Her eyes filled with tears as a tightening in her chest began to squeeze the air from her lungs.

‘What does Melissa and Josh think happened to me? Are they looking for me? Would they look for me? Do they think I’m dead?’

She drew in a shuddering breath and closed her eyes, tears falling onto her shirt. She wanted to be found, to have someone help her, be here with her. She was so damned scared that she would die and never experience the rest of what life had to offer her. Maybe she wasn’t a good person and this was purgatory. She believed she was a good person, despite the fights and altercations she'd gotten into over the years, but she fought for the right reasons. Her friends. Love. Protection. Life.

Maybe this was the end of all that.

‘Please. Please. Somebody.’

‘Please. Don’t let me die. Not here. Not yet.’

Breathe in. Breathe out.

‘…..stop, Sam, now is not the time to break. You can’t break now.’

She took another steadying breath, pressing her back further into the tree and tugging on the vine securing her to the branch. She would make it; she would get through this. She had to-there was no other choice. If it was her time, she would go down fighting, trying, and she would give it her last best effort. Her eyes closed again and as she pleaded to whatever god was listening to help her, she fell into a fitful sleep.

It was only a few hours later, the sky only just beginning to change colors when a heavier rustling in the leaves startled her out of her sleep. She scrambled out of the vines, not wanting to be at a disadvantage, her heart beating wildly in her chest, as she climbed out of her tree bed as quickly and silently as she could. She dashed across the roots in the earth, stumbling and making more noise than she intended in the leaves, and towards a cluster of trees a few yards away. She slammed her back into it, the rough bark biting through the worn leather of her jacket and into her skin. She tilted her head to the side, trying to listen through her raging heartbeat. The leaves kept rustling as if someone was walking through them towards her.

Click.

The safety of the gun clicked off and she inhaled the rich scent of the forest deeply into her lungs to steady herself. She needed to be calm and collected, ready to defend herself within a moment's notice. She could not hesitate if the situation called for it. The possibility of pulling the trigger to end a life left a cold feeling in her gut and she had to take another deep breath to chase it away.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

About 30 feet away from her position behind the tree, the rustling came to a stop. She kept as still as she could, holding her breath and forcing her eyes to stare straight ahead into the labyrinth of writhing shadows ahead of her, her ears straining to hear past the sudden silence that encased her. The air itself shuddered, vibrating her surroundings, as she held her breath. Flickers of fracturing light appearing and disappearing from somewhere in the forest momentarily caught her attention.

It was then the steps continued to draw closer to her, slower, perhaps cautious. She needed to act, she had the element of surprise and she needed to use it to her advantage, whatever advantage she may have. Her inner turmoil was allowing the threat to get closer to her position and even her instincts were urging her to do it now!

But she stayed frozen. The ungodly terror that wracked through her body was coming to a head and despite how hard she tried to stomp it back down, it wouldn’t budge. It just kept overflowing into her bloodstream; her fight-or-flight response fractured and her limbs became heavy and useless. She had mere moments to do something before the threat was on her and she wasn’t ready to die, strange land or not.

‘If you don’t move your fucking legs right now, I swear to God!’ Sam screamed internally at herself, as she felt the near uncontrollable urge to cry, the burn incessantly pressing behind her eyes.

15 feet away.

‘Sam, come on!’

10 feet away.

‘God damn it, Sam, move! Come on!’

5 feet away.

‘SAM!’

Sam spun away from the tree, gun aimed at the threat standing four feet in front of her. Her eyes narrowed, her breaths coming out harsh, and her body tense and ready to fight. But her hands were steady even though she could feel the adrenaline pulsing beneath her skin, ready to explode. As her sight zeroed in on the figure, her expression slackened and her eyes went wide for a different reason.

He was beautiful, stunning actually. He was incredibly tall, towering over Sam’s 5’10 stature and making her feel far more unprepared than she already was. His red hair cascaded down the nape of his neck and shoulders like liquid fire; his facial features were sharp, elegant despite the brutal scar that ran down the left side of his face. His eyes, god, his eyes. One eye was russet, a gorgeous brown with flecks of orange and red with the other seemingly shining like gold but there was something wrong about it. It looked more mechanical than natural and Sam took an involuntary step back. It wasn’t until her eyes caught the tips of his ears peaking out from beneath his hair that she sucked in a breath, her entire body attempting to resist the urge to tremble.

‘This is not real. This cannot be real.’

Sam mustered up as much confidence that was left in her, which honestly wasn’t much, and narrowed her eyes further at the man standing in front of her. Her right hand held high on the back-strap, her left supporting the other side of the pistol, her left wrist canting forward and locking them in place. Aimed, locked, cocked, and ready.

He held his hands up, taking a step back with his palms out to face her as he took in the weapon aimed directly at his chest and the woman holding it. He spoke in a language that she couldn’t understand but sounded familiar. Even his voice sounded beautiful, low, and cautious as his eyes flickered between her and the weapon. Even though she couldn’t understand him, she could read his body language.

He stayed completely still, unnaturally still, with his hands still raised in front of him. He was speaking gently, no doubt trying to defuse the situation, but the pure, unadulterated terror continued to seep out of Sam’s pores even though she remained steady. While her body was telling her that he was absolutely a threat and she should bolt, her mind was warring with itself, claiming that he hadn’t hurt her yet despite the gun trained on him and him obviously able to outmaneuver her quickly if he wanted to.

“I can’t understand you,” Sam said, lowering her weapon an inch but keeping the death grip on it. “Do you speak English?”

He cocked his head to the side in confusion and his eyes continued to drift between her and the weapon she had. He seemed confused not only with her but with the pistol in her hands.

A language barrier. Great.

He tried speaking again, motioning with his hands slowly to the area around them and then back to her.

She shook her head, aiming the weapon a little lower to the ground. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”

He sighed heavily and slowly lowered his hands. Sam lowered her firearm but did not holster it, her body slowly easing out of its braced stance but the adrenaline continued to flow through her veins, ready to do whatever was necessary. The red-haired stranger motioned to the area around them again and to her, frustration painting his face.

Sam stared at him for a moment, trying to gauge what he was trying to convey. She cocked her head to the side and furrowed her brow, prompting him to repeat the gesture with his hands once more.

“How did I end up here?” She asked, doing the same hand signs he did as she spoke trying to gauge a reaction to see if she was on the right track.

He lit up for a second, motioning again and speaking the strange words along with it in an effort to help her follow along. Sam clicked the safety on and holstered her gun after a beat, putting her blind trust in this stranger standing across from her. He was the first person she had seen and if there was any chance of her getting out of this forest, it would likely be through him. She would need both hands to try and communicate.

“I. woke up. Here.” Sam pointed to herself, mimed waking up, and then gestured to the area.

He seemed to catch on, nodding his head towards her before gesturing again.

Sam watched his hands intently and then moved her gaze to his mouth, trying to piece together a sentence. This was a lot more difficult than she thought. “How...did...you...uh...shit, do that again, how did you...far? How did you...far...what?...trees?” Sam blinked as he patiently repeated the actions. “How did I get so far out in the woods? Fuck, I’m taking a sign language course when I get back home,” Sam rubbed her face, no doubt looking far worse for wear than she ever had in her life. “I. Walked.” She moved her pointer and middle finger back and forth to imitate a person walking. “After. Waking up.” She mimed again, pointing up to the treetops. “I don’t know where I am.” Sam drew an invisible question mark in the air, changing her expression to confusion, and then motioned to their surroundings.

He pushed his hair up, showing his pointed ears and Sam felt a flash of fear rush through her at the sight of them. He quickly held his hands up to her again, his palms facing her, clearly indicating that he would not harm her. She watched him point to the side of her head and she tucked her hair back behind her rounded ear with shaking hands. He blinked, straightening a little more, and looked at her eyes. She was suddenly being evaluated by this...fae, his eyes running over her face and body, taking stock of what was in front of him. She did her absolute best to hide her nervousness but he had already seen it.

He nodded to her, lowering his hands, his expression changing to one of understanding. He pointed to himself, “Lucien.” He then gestured to her and drew a question mark in the air.

Sam tilted her head, “Loosin?”

He chuckled very softly, a melodic sound that sent tingles down her spine, and shook his head, putting a hand against his chest and repeating slower, “Lucien.”

“Looscen?”

Slower. “Lucien.”

“Lucien.” Sam dragged out, allowing her tongue to press against the roof of her mouth, behind her front teeth in a way it wasn’t used to. “Lucien.” She said more confidently.

He nodded to her, pointing to her with the question mark in the air again.

“Sam.” She pointed to herself. “Sam.”

It took far less time for him to get the sound of her name right, only having to hear it twice before he spoke it back to her. She nodded, a weight lifting off her shoulders for a moment.

It was a crude variation of sign language that they were trying to communicate with. It was amazing, really, how easily they both seemed to fall into it despite the circumstances. Desperately trying to express themselves with hand signals and words spoken in two different languages; it was almost shocking to them both how they assisted each other in attempting to understand. They were complete strangers, obviously very different from one another but still trying to form a figurative olive branch, a peace offering between them, and taking time to assist each other.

A question mark was drawn in the air. “Can you help me?” Sam pointed to him, clasped her hands together, and then pointed to herself hoping it was enough.

Lucien seemed to grasp what she was trying to ask and was in the middle of making a few more hand motions when suddenly he stopped. Sam saw him tense for a moment before turning his head to the left, looking out towards a patch of dense wood that was beginning to lighten with the rising sun. Sam turned to the direction that he was looking in, reaching for the holster of her gun when she finally heard the noise that caught his attention.

A long, low-pitched howl pierced the night and it made every hair on her body stand up. Her whole body turned ice cold as she became paralyzed with fear, an empty feeling growing in her gut that told her that what she thought that howl was...was far worse than what she expected.

Wisps of smoke formed on a shadow's edge in the trees, slowly taking form. Sam was caught between curiosity and terror, the latter winning out. The gray smoke gathered tightly together, evolving into a shape, an animal shape that grew larger and larger the longer she stared. Smaller clusters of the same smokey vapor started to appear beside the first, now in the shape of a rather large dog, and Sam’s bladder felt the urge to release.

Lucien’s eyes snapped down to Sam’s as she took a step back, getting ready to flee. He shook his head, looking slightly apologetic before grabbing Sam’s hand and yanking her along, running deeper into the forest in the opposite direction of the smokey hounds.

It was a mighty effort trying to keep up with his long legs and his speed. She was at a horrible disadvantage in comparison and hard as she might, she could not keep up with him. He seemed to realize that she would only continue to slow him down as her shoulder almost dislocated for the second time in a short span of their frantic running. There was no doubt that they were being pursued by those beasts and the thought of being captured urged her forward, her legs still sore from earlier. Lucien stopped short and Sam tumbled into him, colliding with his back with a harsh OOMPH! Lucien looked down at her as he caught her, giving her an apologetic look again.

All of a sudden, it was a whirlwind. Everything decided to spin, so fast that she was dizzy and her grip on Lucien tightened to near bone-crushing. Her eyes squeezed shut as she felt like she was being pushed through a tube that was way too small. Her lungs screamed for air even though all she could smell was a bonfire and apples.

As sudden as it happened, the sensation stopped and she was back on solid ground. She ripped away, from Lucien, her boots sinking in sand, to double over and breathe deeply. If she had anything in her stomach it definitely would have made a reappearance.

“What the fuck was that? Did we just apparate? What kind of Harry Potter shit did you just pull?” Sam rushed out, standing up and waving her hands in fast movements, looking up at Lucien who was smiling faintly even though he didn’t understand a word she was yelling. This motherfucker had the audacity to find this funny. There was nothing funny about this situation and she felt the urge to vomit.

Lucien, at least, had the decency to try and hide his smile as he moved his hands from one place to another, trying to explain what they just did and Sam straightened her back with hands on her hips. She was about to give him an earful, one that he would no doubt not understand, when their surroundings finally caught her eye.

It was a sea of sand underneath bright sunshine and shimmering heat. Sam wanted to squint her eyes at the sudden brightness but its beauty forced her eyes wide. Sandstone buildings stood tall against the horizon and the sound of a flowing river met her ears. She didn’t know where to look, everything was so beautiful and bright, a vibrant energy pulsing through her as she stood under the sun’s golden rays. Fluffy, cotton-looking clouds drifted across the blue sky and birds singing their melodies danced on the breeze.

She turned to Lucien, absolute awe overtaking her features. She moved her hands but didn’t know what to say or how to say it, so she drew a question mark in the air, blinking in shock.

Lucien pointed to the sun and then tapped his wrist as if he was wearing a watch. Sam, only nodded not quite understanding what he meant but didn’t know what else to ask, the landscape around them completely taking her breath away.

Lucien’s face softened a little and nodded in return, setting his hand between her shoulder blades to guide her forward towards the brilliant city, the fragrant scent of rose blooms, jasmine, and lavender filling her senses. Her eyes were so wide in wonder, soaking up as much of the visuals as she could that she didn’t realize they were walking into the city center. She watched colorful butterflies flutter from flower to flower, the smell of grilled meats and spices filled her nostrils, and laughter and chatter from people, other fae, were meeting her ears.

She subconsciously covered her ears with her hair, not wanting to draw even more attention to herself than she already was. Lucien tapped her on her shoulder and she looked up at him, asking the question silently with her expression. He tapped his nose and then nodded to her and her face drained of color.

She didn’t have to cover her ears because they could smell she was human. They could smell the still damp mud caking her clothes and shoes, the scent of the forest clinging to her clothes like a second skin, and the dried blood from the cuts littering the exposed skin from being in the woods. She suddenly wanted to remain ignorant of what else they could possibly sense from her.

Lucien gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze as he walked confidently through the courtyard, leading up to a sandstone palace. Sam’s neck popped as she tilted her head back to look up at the stunning building in its full glory. Large windows, balconies, breezeways, and staircases made up the towering palace, vines of wisteria overflowing from railings and climbing up the walls. Sam had never seen somewhere so beautiful in person before.

What is this place?

She had so many questions but with the language barrier, they stayed unanswered, and the thought of being able to get home returned to her again. Would she be able to get home? How did she get here to begin with? Where would she begin to start finding her way back home? She felt the tears well up and she shoved the thought aside, it still wasn’t time for her break down. She would have to wait, store it up, and bury it deep down until she had a moment of privacy to process her journey so far and the repercussions of it.

Lucien was speaking to two fae guards, dressed in striking gold and white armor. Sam couldn’t help but shift from foot to foot in nervousness under their gaze as they assessed her and whatever Lucien was saying. She was so out of place that it was painful. She knew some of the whispers coming from around her were about her, judging by other fae pointing or motioning to her. She sighed, and even though they could tell she was nervous and lost, she clenched her teeth and stood up straight, the full weight of her false confidence snapping into place. She would fake it until she made it.

It was a few more moments before the guards stepped aside and allowed Lucien and Sam to pass through. Even though Lucien seemed to stick out like a sore thumb with his red hair among the dark and blonde-haired fae, he seemed to glide through the gates to the palace like he owned the place. Sam followed behind him, looking at the beautiful lush gardens spilling out from the walkway as they ascended the steps to the doors.

If Sam thought Lucien was beautiful before, she had no words to describe the fae male standing just beyond the doors of the palace. Striking? Handsome? Nothing came close to describing the power vibrating around him. If she had to get close, he was the sun personified. His dark hair fell in onyx waves, his dark sun-kissed skin gleamed in the light, and his smile was welcoming but deadly. He was wearing what Sam could only describe as a toga, something you read about Greek gods wearing, and an intricate golden crown sat upon his head. For a moment, a sudden sadness struck her and she missed Melissa. She would love this place and its people.

The Greek god-looking fae smiled warmly at Lucien as he came to a stop, speaking in their native tongue and no doubt explaining what little information he had acquired about the situation to him. His eyebrows raised and he kept glancing Sam’s way, curiosity shining in those golden orbs. Sam could tell he was a wealth of knowledge, his eyes were older than his physical body and for the countless times since she had been in this strange land, she felt horribly inadequate.

He turned to her, taking her hand gently in his. Warmth poured out of him and into her body, chasing the cold that seemed to linger in her bones. “Helion.”

Sam, who lost her breath at those amber eyes turning to her, replied softly, “Sam.” His name was normal enough for her to latch onto it.

A messenger boy ran up, holding a black envelope with a silver wax seal out for Helion. Lucien tensed at the sight of it and Sam knew he recognized the writing. Helion nodded to the boy, handing a sliver of gold over, and opened the envelope. Whatever was written on it seemed to pique Helion’s curiosity even more because he stared at Sam while handing the letter to Lucien, who in turn took it and read it. Sam felt like she was under a microscope when Lucien looked up at her next.

She shuffled from foot to foot, feeling a nervous energy fall into her. Helion turned to Lucien, speaking again and motioning around the palace. Lucien bowed his head and put his hand between her shoulders again, guiding her forward.

Sam drew a question mark in the air and Lucien was quick to respond, moving his hands slowly, motioning to her dirty clothes, and tapping his stomach.

“Clothes and food?” Sam asked out loud, mimicking eating with a fork.

Lucien nodded and helped her up the stairs, following behind two gorgeous female faes who appeared from nowhere.

As she followed beside Lucien, a deep feeling of gratitude settled in her chest and she looked up at him. This stranger, this male fae, who didn’t speak the same language as her had helped her, immediately and brought her to what she hoped was a safe place. He did all of that for a human he didn’t know. Her heart hurt at the sheer magnitude of her emotions and she tried to regain her composure as they stopped in front of a door.

Lucien nodded to what Sam assumed were the equivalent of the palace maids and opened the door for Sam to peer inside the room. Sam almost cried at the beauty of it; the golden detailing so elegantly complimenting the white linens and lush carpet. The massive bed was filled with fluffy pillows and cozy blankets, the floor-to-ceiling windows draped in soft golden fabrics and leading out onto a huge balcony overlooking the gardens they walked by earlier. A golden chandelier cascading with diamonds hung from the ceiling as the main centerpiece. Wing-backed chairs gathered around a glass table, separating the sleeping area from the sitting area, with golden trays of grapes, soft cheeses, cured meats, and what looked like red wine.

Sam looked down at her boots, frowning. She would track mud everywhere and ruin the crisp, clean carpet. Lucien tapped her shoulder and shook his head, waving his hand, which Sam took as ‘you don’t have to worry’. She nodded and slowly stepped into the room, taking it all in and opening the door to a closet filled with light dresses and skirts in a variety of colors. She turned and opened another door, leading into a sandstone bathroom, soft white towels hung from golden rods, and luscious soaps and oils sat on the ledge of what could only be described as a small pool.

Sam turned to Lucien who was waiting patiently by the bedroom door. Sam drew a question mark in the air, again. “Are you going to wait for me?” She pointed to him and her wrist.

Lucien motioned to where he was standing and then pointed away down the hall, indicating he would leave, but he hurriedly pointed back to where he was and knocked on the door, letting her know he would come back by and collect her.

Sam walked towards him, taking his hands in his and looking into his eyes. She pushed all her gratitude into the way she held his hands, “Thank you, Lucien, thank you.” She hoped it was enough. She hoped he could understand her without their signals.

He understood.

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“How is it, that every time something is amiss, the Night Court is somehow involved?”

Lucien looked up from his seat in front of Helion’s desk. Helion’s study was a room of comfort and knowledge. Books, papers, and little objects holding down piles of notes littered almost every surface in the room but he knew it was all organized. For all his charisma and charm, Helion was an adamant scholar, busying himself with reading, writing, and capturing as much knowledge as he could about as many topics as possible.

Lucien scoffed, “I’ve been asking myself that same question for centuries and have yet to come up with an answer.”

Helion smiled, settling back into his chair. “So, you came across her in the Autumn Court’s forest and you took pity on her?”

“I did. I’m sure you felt the tremors a few days ago. Clearly, it was felt in the Night Court as well if Rhysand is sending his warriors to your borders.” Lucien replied, leaning back in his chair and sipping on the small glass of whiskey Helion had offered him. “I thought it wise to bring her here, where she would be safe, rather than subjecting her to Beron and my brothers.”

Helion suppressed a snarl at the mention of the Autumn High Lord. “And you believe this human, Sam, has something to do with what's going on?”

Lucien gave a halfhearted shrug, fingering the edge of the glass. “I’m not sure but it is not simply a coincidence that Prythian felt its wards shudder and then suddenly a human female turns up so far inland, speaking a different language, looking completely different than the humans we know, and has items on her that we have never seen. She was terrified of me when she saw what I was. If she doesn’t have something to do with it, then that’s one hell of a coincidence.”

Helion made a noise of agreement, “I will say that I agree with you but can we trust her? You’ve only known her for a few hours and now she is a guest in my home.”

“I believe we can. She’s scared and she can’t communicate with us; she needs our help.”

“I’m pleased to see that you still have a soft spot for others after all these years.”

Lucien sighed, his thoughts turning to his upbringing in Autumn and the Hybern wars. “There is no victor in hatred nor is there peace.” He looked out the window overlooking the city center. “We fought for them, the humans. We endured insurmountable pain because of Hybern’s prejudice against them and their need for control; we didn’t send our armies to war for us to turn our backs on them now. We didn’t fight so the world could go back to the way it was. We didn’t sacrifice our people for nothing.” He paused as the weight of his words filled the air, the ghosts of his pain flashed in his mind. “So I didn’t leave her. I offered my hand because it meant something. It means something.”

Helion nodded slowly, his eyes assessing his son, “I’m sure it means everything to that human female. To Sam.” He turned his gaze to the black envelope sitting in front of him. “I’m sure Rhysand will want to take the lead in this situation.”

“I think you should let him,” Lucien said causing Helion’s eyebrows to rise. “Feyre, Nesta, and….Elain...they were human once. I’m sure they have better insight than we do.”

“Oh, I’m sure they do,” Helion agreed. “Rhysand is also daemati, as is Feyre, they will be able to assess if she is a threat or not.”

Lucien’s brows furrowed, “You’re going to allow them to access her mind?”

“Rhysand doesn’t use his gift without express permission from the individual.”

“But she can’t give it. She doesn’t speak our language, there’s no way I would be able to explain what it is he does with simple hand motions and facial expressions.” Lucien insisted hurriedly. While he trusted Rhys and the members of the Night Courts Inner Circle, the thought of a helpless human being taken advantage of like that caused his fists to clench.

“Rhysand has many objects in the Court of Nightmares, one of which is a silver bean that Sam can ingest that will allow her to speak and understand our language. She will have the knowledge for the rest of her life.” Helion supplied easily, leaning forward on his desk. “I know many things about my fellow High Lord; Rhys is a good male, he will take the lead in this situation and I have no doubt that he will find an answer to help her, do not worry.”

Lucien’s shoulders seemed to loosen some tension and he nodded his head to show his agreement. “Is it safe to assume that they are on their way here?”

Helion hummed, “Yes, it would be safe to assume that. I sent a messenger out about an hour ago.”

Lucien rolled his eyes but cracked a small smile at what he knew now was his blood father. “Never mind that you have the Emissary of the Night Court in your study who could have done that for you.”

“Yes, never mind that,” Helion grinned as he stood up and straightened his clothes. “If I had to guess, they would likely arrive after dinner, so let’s collect our little human and give her some food. The poor child could use some nourishment,” He paused and tilted his head. “and possibly some strong liquor.”

Lucien snorted, rising as well. “Just set a pitcher of faerie wine in front of her, she’ll likely need it.”

[sevasey51]

Hey babe! Can you write a request for Connor teaching Charlie how to hit the code panel? Also, what made Connor decide to put the tablet in the house?

Built-In Backup

Summary: The day Connor installed the wall-mounted crash tablet, it wasn’t out of panic—it was out of quiet, deliberate fear. He’d seen too many close calls, too many moments where she was seconds from spiraling. So he built a failsafe. And when their golden retriever Charlie came home, it didn’t take long before Connor realized he could be part of the plan, too. This is the story of how the Charlie Crate command was born—and why Connor never leaves anything to chance when it comes to her.

8 Months Ago – A Quiet Saturday Morning

Connor had his laptop open at the kitchen island, skimming through case notes—but he wasn’t really reading them.

His eyes kept flicking to the couch.

Y/N was curled under a fleece blanket, deep in sleep. Charlie was curled at her feet, paws twitching in a dream. Her face was pale, her skin damp with the aftereffects of the crash she’d had two days prior.

That one had been too close.

BP in the 70s. HR over 170.

He’d had to give the emergency beta-blocker twice.

She’d been unable to talk. Barely able to move.

And still—still—she apologized afterward for “scaring” him.

He closed the laptop and quietly walked to the wall outside their bedroom, the spot they always passed. He had measured it weeks ago. Checked WiFi connectivity. Power access. Quietly started drafting protocols.

She didn’t know. Not yet.

But he had already ordered the panel.

Because when you’re a trauma surgeon married to someone with conditions that can flip from manageable to life-threatening in minutes… love isn’t just warm blankets and tea. It’s building systems that can keep her here.

Three Weeks Later – Installation Day

The tablet was up, sleek and black with a soft glow when tapped. It was built for medical integration—secure, encrypted, and linked to her data log. It had four preset commands.

• Charlie Crate – Full crash.

• Waterfall – Pre-syncopal episode.

• Red Light – Hemorrhage alert.

• Greenhouse – Sensory shutdown mode.

And then, Connor did something unexpected:

He crouched beside Charlie, who tilted his head at the screen.

“You wanna help?” Connor asked gently, showing him a small square outlined on the screen.

Charlie wagged his tail.

“Okay, bud. Look here—see this?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out one of Charlie’s favorite training treats. “You touch the screen, you get this.”

He repeated the command—“Crate. Charlie crate.”—and gently guided Charlie’s paw to tap the target.

The tablet beeped.

Treat given. Praise loud.

It took a week. Dozens of repetitions. Reinforcement.

Then one day, Connor heard the tablet beep on its own—and ran straight to it.

Connor stared.

“Holy shit. You’re a genius.”

Charlie barked once and sat proudly.

That night Y/N found him at the tablet, tweaking the alert timing settings.

“Hey,” she murmured. “What’s this?”

He didn’t even flinch. “Backup plan.”

She tilted her head, and he explained—every detail.

How it could call Will, Jay, Ava and Hannah. Log her vitals. Trigger smart lights and unlock the emergency med drawer.

And how—if she ever couldn’t move—Charlie would do it.

Her eyes filled.

“You did all that for me?”

He turned and looked at her. “I watched you nearly stop breathing in my arms, and I had nothing left but my hands and hope. I will never let us be in that position again.”

She pulled him into a hug, burying her face into his neck. “You’re kind of scary when you love someone.”

He smiled, pressed a kiss into her hair, and whispered,

“Good. That means it’s working.”

[cainrising]

So sorry if this is a double send, my WiFi is bugging

Hiiii! I absolutely adore AOI & the general lessons in nihilism-verse. Lando’s love for Oscar always bubbling to the surface but him pushing it down hurt me so bad 😭😭 Js let urself be in love / be loved bro 💔 My fav scenes r the pool scene (casual affection!!!) and Lando’s beach fantasy (so sweet 😭 + just tell Oscar your loving ideas bro please)

I kept hoping Oscar would yell at Lando to just get his shit together already & it seems like if Lando was just able to say his genuine thoughts to Oscar they’d be a much healthier relationship. So, question about relationship possibilities: if Lando did, in fact, get his shit together, do you think they’d manage to actually have a proper boyfriend relationship? And also, would Oscar ever confront Lando?

I will not lie in my head I am just picturing a rain confrontation scene and then a domestic slow-moving healing journey for both of them (Lando slowly being able to say more of his true thoughts to Oscar 🥺),,, but they’re f1 drivers there is no room to be slow 💔

Love u for writing this 😘 I read AOI first and crashed out and then TV twisted the knife. Desperately praying for their happiness 🙏 Also this is my first time doing a tumblr ask so I’m rlly sorry if I’ve accidentally been rude / overbearing - def don’t mean to be ;-;

to answer your questions: if lando pulled his head out of his ass, he and oscar COULD have a healthy relationship. i think to get to that point, he'd have to get the wakeup call of a lifetime, some sense knocked into him, and maybe some time away from the environment of f1 (think summer/winter break), but it's possible! oscar also has a few issues to work through, so it wouldnt be a magical "i love u and u love me, ok we can be together now" thing. they'd probably have to have some time apart. pretty hard when u work together LOL

i too am guilty of daydreaming abt dramatic rain scenes 😭 i listened a lot to back to friends whilst writing AOI, and i dont smoke whilst writing TV, and dramatic confessions/"but i love you!" (read that in elena gilbert's voice) scenes are my guilty pleasure 💔 i dont have an outline for further instalments, but i do intend to write myself out of this knot of feelings at SOME point. they'll get a happy ending! maybe.

[gravedigest]

More DS drabble.

“No offense, Vic, but why are you putting up with it?”

His coworker has a hip leaning against the counter, the lull after lunch rush giving them all a moment to breathe. Victor logs himself out of the register, digging his phone from his back pocket as he slips to the back of the kitchen.

His coworker follows.

“He helps with the chores.”

“He’s not helping with the chores now,” they quirk their head towards the dining room, where Deimos is curled up in a booth. The way he’s zoned out suggests he’s probably working on something, the bored tilt of his head says it’s probably actual work. “Isn’t he freeloading?”

“No. No, he helps.”

“Helps what?”

“Is that actually any of your business?”

“Oh. Ooooh, I see.” That singsong tone of voice.

“No.”

“Still, he’s kind of a wreck, Vic. You could do better.”

“Can you not?”

He’s not in the mood for this.

Everyone trying to pry, dig in at his life. He’s not going to talk about it.

“I’m taking my lunch.”

“Gonna bring food to your boyfr-“

“We’re just roommates. Go fill a bag of ice for me.”

Even with all the heckling, they still do that, at least. Deimos might not be particularly popular as a restaurant appliance, but there’s a general understanding amongst the workers.

They won’t just let him overheat.

So Victor collects his lunch from the back, orders up something for Deimos, and gets the bag of ice.

He’s still blanked out in his booth when Victor gets there, resting on the table, head pillowed in his crossed arms. It makes it easy to get the ice spread over the back of his neck, stirring him just enough that he starts blinking and backing out of his rig.

“Got busy in here for a minute,” Deimos notes, stretching his arms over the table, then grinning up at him. “Lagged out the wifi.”

“Did it mess up whatever you’re doing?”

“Nah, music kept buffering, though. What’d ya get me?”

“Nuggets.”

“You are too sweet to me.”

He can see how hard it is for Deimos to get himself sat up, keeping the weight of his arms on the table, careful not to drop the ice by staying hunched over. Victor pops the box open for him, gets the top ripped off the sauce, the little fine motor things that can be a struggle when he’s lagging out.

And he is lagging out, there’s a slowness to how his eyes are tracking things, a sheen of sweat in his hairline. Little things Victor’s gotten good at noticing.

“Job’s gonna pay okay,” Deimos says it with his teeth halfway through a nugget, only realizing it was too hot halfway through the bite. “‘Lectricity should be good for the month. Or could go for the water, iunno. Your choice.”

“You get the electric, I’ll get water,” He doesn’t know how Deimos can eat the same things for weeks solid like he does, but it simplifies a lot of things.

He’s easy to please.

And he helps.

It’s not that complicated. He’s the easiest job Victor’s ever had.

Except for the parts that are hard.

When Victor checks on him again, nearing the end of his shift, Deimos hasn’t moved.

From across the restaurant, it looked like he was just back to work, face tucked into his arms and his hand around a soda cup.

He should’ve known better, made him take a break from his rig or moved him to the office when the boss had left for the day. Moved him to the walk-in. Had him walk around the dining room for a minute.

He’s crashing.

It takes two more people to help drag Deimos to the walk in, Deimos’ eyes stuck open wide, his limbs locked up in their curled positions, Victor’s shivering in the freezer with him as someone is cussing out corporate for the fact that no one can find a goddamn pen.

Sunglasses.

His sunglasses.

It takes a minute to pull the rubber off of the arm, to expose the narrow metal, but yeah- Yeah. That’s thin enough.

He tilts Deimos’ head down, finding that little pinhole from the diagrams he’d memorized, feeding the tip of the arm into the hole until he can feel the click-

Deimos jerks, immediately slamming his palms into his own eyes and coiling up. “Fuck, ow, shit, fuck- ow-“

“Hey- You’re gonna pop your eyeball-“

His hands drag up his face and into his hair, pressing hard at his skull as he collects himself from the hard cancellation of whatever process he was stuck in. “Shit, shit. What- Where?”

“Freezer?”

“… Overheated?”

… Sometimes, he wishes he could explain some things to Deimos.

He’s a little too deep for that, though.

It’s nicer to him if he just doesn’t know, anyway.

“… Yeah. Shift’s over. Wanna call Sanford?”

“… Yeah.”